


Needs Must

by Sestra_Prior



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-12
Updated: 2006-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sestra_Prior/pseuds/Sestra_Prior
Summary: Harry sets off to find the remaining Horcruxes - and enlists the help of a very unexpected person.





	1. Azkaban

All characters are the property of Ms Rowling. I am eternally grateful to her for creating them. 

 

**A/N** With huge thanks to my beta, RaeWhit who illustrated just how much I didn’t know – and I still love her!

********

**Chapter One—Azkaban**

The island of Azkaban was every bit as forbidding as Harry had imagined it would be. Sheer cliffs rose out of the turbulent iron-grey sea, seeming to scratch at the glowering clouds. No seabirds screeched around the rocky outcrop, the only sound the shuck and crash of the white-topped waves as they flung against the stone.

Harry cowered under his invisibility cloak as the island drew nearer. He was nonplussed as to where the small boat that he had sneaked aboard was going to land. There did not appear to be anywhere that the craft could approach where it would not be smashed to pieces. But the old, wizened fellow who manned the tiller obviously knew a way through. As he steered the little boat around the island, Harry then noticed a cleft in the rocks. 

At the end of the small inlet stood an ancient wooden jetty. Seaweed hung like wet rags where the tide had receded, and bone-coloured barnacles crept like a plague over the rotting timbers. Harry noticed a path leading away from between a cluster of mean-looking shacks that ranged along the base of a steep incline of rocks.

Two men approached the boat as it drew level with the dock. The old sailor tossed out a rope, then one of the men made it fast to a bollard, drawing the vessel against the side. The old sailor jumped out.

He greeted the two me, and then gestured to his cargo. “More supplies. Store or up top?”

“Store,” one of the men replied. “We’ll sort 'em, Doric. Hammett wants you.”

“Aye, I know he does. Well, if you’re all right with the unloading, I’ll get off.” Doric stood for a moment, and then turned and set off up the path between the buildings. 

Harry managed to scramble quietly from the boat, then hurried after the old sailor. He pulled the cloak more tightly about him, as much to fend off the creeping cold and the lazy wind that seemed to go straight through him, as to ensure he remained undetected. 

The path led steeply up from the dock through a narrow defile. Harry stole along, conscious that the close confines of the trail would make it nearly impossible to get out of the way of anyone coming from the opposite direction. He heaved a sigh as the path eventually broadened, the black rocks dropping away on either side of him to reveal an expanse of withered, coarse grass, stretched between the edges of the surrounding cliff tops like a cavity in a tooth. The few trees in evidence were stunted and diseased, bent in angles away from the vicious wind. At last—there before him stood the prison itself. A monstrosity of sheer walls and soaring crenulated towers, the windows mere slits in the hard stone. In the miserable daylight, the place looked black and forbidding. A beaten track marched on from Harry's feet through the sparse vegetation, up to Azkaban.

********

Harry had crept aboard the boat in the early hours of the morning, just as grey-haired dawn was stretching her misty fingers over the still sleeping land. He had made himself as small as possible under his invisibility cloak, altered his magical signature with a very useful but little known charm that Hermione had once discovered, and settled in to wait. The charm was necessary, as the wards set up around Azkaban recognised the intrusion of any witch or wizard into the area. The spell changed his signature to that of an animal, effectively cloaking him from the sensors. The cloak itself took care of his obvious physical presence.

********

The ancient mariner had now reached the great doors to the prison. Iron-bound black wood, scarred and weathered, stretched up to a height of twenty feet. Cut into one of the huge portals was a small door, that now opened to reveal a stout wizard. His hair was black and hung lankly over his shoulder, while a straggly beard and moustache managed to obscure the disfigured face. Black beady eyes glared at the sailor with mistrust.

"Doric," the warder grunted in greeting.

"Aye, Marlden, now let me in out of this blasted cold."

The warder grudgingly backed through the door, leaving it open for the sailor to follow him. Harry had to take his chance that the door would stay open long enough after the old man had sidled through to give him time to creep in. He was lucky. Marlden slammed the heavy wooden door shut just seconds after the young wizard had slipped into the prison.

Harry found himself in a vast cavernous hall. From what he could see in the dim light that filtered through the narrow windows, there was a flight of stairs just opposite that led to the upper stories. A stone-flagged floor, grimy with years of dirt, stretched away into the gloom. Various doorways led off the hall, through one of which Harry could hear voices. It was towards this door that Marlden and Doric were now moving. Harry hesitated a moment before following them. 

The prison was obviously huge, and it would take Harry too long to search every cell for his quarry. Somewhere there must be a list of prisoners and which cell they were confined in; he would just have to hope he could locate the document quickly, as he really had no wish to stay longer in this morbid place than was necessary. Even without the dementors, there was a doleful feel about the prison—the cold crept into one’s very bones and chilled the soul to the core. There was no hint of light or happiness anywhere, nothing to relieve the stone-grey monotony of the walls. Harry shuddered, then slipped through the doorway after the two men. 

He found himself in a small antechamber. Through an archway he could see a larger room, in the centre of which was a long trestle table with benches arranged along the sides. A number of men were seated at the table eating, the hum of voices contrasting starkly with the sombre silence of the hall outside. A large fire crackled in a huge fireplace, and Harry moved gratefully towards its warmth, careful to keep to the edge of the room to avoid accidentally brushing against anyone. To one side of the hearth, a huge man was asleep in a rocking chair, his snores punctuating the conversation around him. The belt stretched tightly across his vast stomach boasted an impressive collection of keys. Harry slipped his hand down to feel the reassuring hardness of the lock-pick he had secreted in his pocket—he really did not want to have to add key-stealing to his already impressive “to do” list. Besides, there were wards in place to prevent the use of magic.

The man awoke with a start and a curse. The conversations paused for a moment as if the men wished to judge the mood of their fellow warder. Then the quiet hum of voices began again. The man scratched his stomach in a desultory fashion, then glanced around the room. 

Catching sight of the sailor Doric, he called out, "Hah! Doric, darkening my doors again I see. Did you bring what I asked you for?"

Doric ceased his conversation with Marlden and approached the big man,

"Aye, Chief Warden Hammett, I have it here." He reached into his filthy, salt-stiffened tunic, brought forth a small package twined round with hairy string, which he then handed to the Warden. Hammett seized it gleefully, a large smile spreading across his red face, revealing a number of blackened and missing teeth.

"Ah, good, good." He fished in a waistcoat pocket, his stubby fingers barely able to reach into the small confines, and extracted a Galleon. He tossed it to Doric who caught it expertly, brought the coin to his mouth, then bit down to test the validity of the gold.

"Will you stop for a bite and a pint, Doric?" Hammett invited, struggling to extract his bulk from the chair and stand up.

"Nay, I'll be getting back, if it's all the same to you. There's a bit of weather on the way, if I'm not much mistaken."

"Ah well, as you like." Hammett stomped to a sideboard where a number of plates of food were arranged. He grabbed a chicken leg and began to gnaw on it. Doric disappeared back through the door to the hall, taking with him Harry's last chance of retreat.

A swell of voices approached, and a moment later a number of men entered the room calling for their breakfast. Harry realised he was witnessing a shift change and tried to squash himself even further against the wall as the men jostled to replace those seated at the table. Hammett spat the chicken bones into the fireplace and bellowed.

“All right, all right. Who the hell is guarding if you lot are all here?” The hubbub ceased, the men turning expectantly to their chief.

“Get yerselves sorted. Day shift, you should be gone. Night shift, anything to report?”

A tall, well-built man pushed through the now departing day shift and came up to Hammett.

“Hammett,” the man nodded in greeting. “No, all’s quiet. Although bloody Malfoy’s been complaining again.” 

Harry pricked up his ears.

“Really?” Hammett questioned in an ugly voice. “I’d give him something to really complain about if I had my way.” He slammed one of his beefy fists into an open palm. “Smarmy bastard. So much for his ‘pureblood’. He’s down in the filth with the rest of ‘em now, rot his hide.”

The other man laughed, but laid a cautionary hand on Hammett’s arm. “That may be so, but don’t forget who his master is. I wouldn’t want to be answering to him if he should come calling and find his old mate in less than perfect condition.”

Hammett frowned. “Think that’s likely, do you?”

“Well, now that Dumbledore is dead, we only have the boy between us and the Dark Lord. Can’t see a young lad being much use against the power of that one.”

“But Potter defeated him before.”

“Maybe, but that was then, this is now. All I’m saying,” he went on in a lowered voice, “is that it might not be such a bad idea to keep our options, er, open, shall we say.”

Hammett regarded the other man stonily. “I see what you’re saying, Emaris, and I think you’d best keep your ideas to yourself.”

Hammett went up several degrees in Harry’s estimation.

Emaris shrugged. “I was only saying….”

“Well don’t.” Hammett snapped. “Do you have the reports?”

Emaris dragged a sheaf of papers from his tunic and held them out to Hammett. The big man grabbed them and turned away from Emaris in a gesture of dismissal. The other man glared at Hammett’s back for a moment, then went and helped himself to breakfast.

Hammett walked across the room and disappeared through another doorway. Harry followed him, taking care to move as quietly as he could, although he felt the chance of being heard above the riot of noise was slim. The doorway led to a long dismal corridor. Several doors led off to each side, and Harry concluded they must be the guards’ quarters. Hammett passed along the corridor to the end and then made his way into a further room. Harry hurried to keep up with him, sure that the man was leading him to where he might find a list of prisoners and their cell numbers.

He was right. Hammett entered a small office and plumped himself down at the desk. To one side of the room was Harry’s Holy Grail. A huge map of the prison, each cell drawn in painstaking detail. Each cell was labelled with the name of the inmate in tiny, spidery writing. Harry hurried over to the map, caught his toe in a frayed end of the rug on the floor and nearly tripped. Hammett shot round in his seat, scowling at the doorway.

“Emaris?” he called. “That you?”

Harry held his breath, cursing his clumsiness. Hammett got up from his chair and went to the door, glanced up and down the corridor then, muttering, slammed the door shut and locked it. Seating himself once more at the desk, the big man drew out the small package that he had secreted in his jacket and began undoing the twine. In spite of his desire to read the map, Harry was intrigued as to what the parcel might contain, so stayed where he was and watched. Hammett fumbled over the knotted string, then carefully unfolded the paper that surrounded the small object within.

It was a silver pendant, enamelled in green with some pattern Harry couldn't distinguish from his remote vantage-point. Hammett grunted in satisfaction, tilting the pendant to catch the sliver of light that slanted through the window. He rubbed a thumb over the enamelling, polishing the surface, then lifted the lid of a small wooden box on the desk top and slipped the pendant inside. Snapping the lid closed, he withdrew a chain from around his neck, on which hung a tiny gold coloured key. Hammett proceeded to lock the box with it before tucking it away again beneath his shirt.

The Chief Warden then pulled the report papers towards him and began to read. Harry tried to get comfortable. He might be in for a long wait and the onset of a cramp would not help matters. The young wizard was just beginning to think that he might as well try and slide down the wall to sit on the floor, when Hammett suddenly pushed the papers to one side, sighed and stood up. “Well,” he muttered under his breath, “better go and check up on things. No rest for the wicked.” He ambled to the door, unlocked it and went out. Harry heard the key in the lock as the door was secured from the outside, then the faint sound of Hammett's retreating footsteps.

The young wizard let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding and allowed his body to relax. He was now effectively trapped in the room. It would be too risky to try and pick the lock when he couldn't be sure if there was anyone walking along the corridor outside who might hear him. He would simply have to wait until Hammett returned. In the meantime, the map beckoned, so Harry made his way to it and began to examine the names.

Harry finally found the one he was looking for after ten minutes of careful scrutiny. He noted the number and the floor of the cell that contained the man he was seeking. Now all he had to do was wait for the Warden. Harry slid his back down the wall until he was sitting.

He woke with a start to hear the sound of the key in the office door. Hammett had returned. As Emaris followed the Head Warden into his office, Harry took the opportunity to slip back out into the corridor. The first part of his self-appointed task had been accomplished. That was the easy bit. All that Harry had to do now was find the cell, and convince the man imprisoned within that he wanted to escape.


	2. Azkaban

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Two—The Prisoner**

Harry stood once more in the great entrance hall. A guard sat behind a small desk near the huge doors, presumably to “welcome” any callers. He scratched away at a piece of parchment, and the noise of the quill pen sounded loud in the stillness. Harry made his way up the broad stone staircase, past the first two floors, to the third and highest floor where he knew the cell of the man he sought was located. He met no guards on the staircase, but as he reached the top, a uniformed man emerged from a doorway that led onto the landing. He clattered down the stairs, nearly brushing Harry as he went past. The young wizard stilled his madly racing heart, and continued through the door the guard had just exited.

A long, flagged corridor stretched away in either direction, but a small plaque on the wall indicated that cells 300 – 350 were to the left, 351 – 400, to the right. Torches flared at intervals from brackets on the walls; the air was stale and still. Solid wooden doors were ranged along the wall opposite, each bearing a painted number. Harry turned to the right and set off down the passage. He moved quietly, aware that there were guards patrolling somewhere. Indeed, he caught the sound of voices as he approached a bend in the corridor. Harry slowed and crept towards the corner. Peeping round, he found two warders conversing in low voices.

"Pitched off the top, according to Smedley, dead as a nail."

"And 'im supposed to be such a great wizard. Makes you think, dunnit?"

"Obviously not as great as we all thought."

"Young boy killed 'im, I 'eard."

"Nah, it was one of the professors, _I_ 'eard. Death Eater. Merlin knows what 'e was doin' teachin' at 'ogwarts."

"Bloody disgrace."

Harry's throat had gone tight at the sound of two men so callously discussing Dumbledore's death. His stomach roiled and his breath caught in his throat. A pain in the palm of his hand caused Harry to glance down; he realised that he had dug his nails into the soft flesh, causing crescent shaped imprints.

"Well, best get on."

The two men parted, and Harry flattened himself against the wall as one of them passed by. The remaining guard went in the other direction, and Harry followed him at a discreet distance. Other corridors branched off at intervals, the end of each one marked by a plaque giving the numbers of the cells to be found in that particular part of the prison. The guard whom Harry was following ignored all the branches and continued along the main hallway. Harry checked each of the plaques as they passed them, but did not see the number he was looking for. 

As they reached the end of the passage, Harry spotted a desk with a chair pulled up beside it—the guard’s station. A last cell door stood close by, the one he was looking for.

Harry cursed his luck as the guard sat down at his desk. So near, yet so far. The boy leaned against the wall to think. The guard obviously left his post to patrol every now and again. Harry would just have to watch and wait, timing how long the man was away from his desk, seeing if there was a pattern. A few yards back along the corridor, Harry had noticed a small alcove. He crept to it and sank to the floor. He figured he might as well be comfortable if he was going to have a long wait.

Patience had never been Harry's strong point, and the half-hour that actually passed seemed to take at least two. But finally the warder got to his feet again and set off down the passage. The young wizard took note of the time it took for the guard to reappear—fifteen minutes. Another half-hour, another patrol, this time only ten minutes. Another lifetime seemed to drag by. Again the man set off on his route—fifteen minutes once more. Harry did not dare try for the door until he had timed the man once more. Another half-hour crept by, and when this time the guard took twenty minutes, Harry wished he had gone for the door instead of being cautious. It seemed that the least amount of time the guard took was ten minutes. Harry hoped it would be long enough.

At last the warder set off again, and as soon as he had passed, Harry sprang for the door, dragging the lock pick from his pocket. He had practised and practised with this instrument since he had formed his plan. But picking a lock in the comfort of your own home, with no pressure and no risk of being caught, was entirely different from attempting to break into the cell of a dangerous criminal, with every chance a guard might return to catch you in the act and find you a cell of your very own. Harry slid the slim device into the lock and tried to focus his mind on the feel of the tumblers. 

Two minutes, then a “click” as one tumbler fell into place. Four minutes and a second joined the first. Five minutes, a third. Seven minutes, and Harry felt the sweat beading on his brow. Eight minutes, a click as another tumbler fell into place. Harry felt feverishly in the lock. Nine minutes, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. The door moved a fraction as Harry inadvertently leaned against it and realised he had unlocked the door. Harry was in the room with the door closed again behind him, just as his ears picked up the sound of the guard's returning footsteps. 

As his breath returned to normal, he focused on the man sitting on the bed. He let the invisibility cloak slide from his shoulders and watched to see the expression on Lucius Malfoy's face.

Damn, but the man was cool. Harry had to admit that if their roles had been reversed, he would have done more than raise an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucius shook his head quickly, placing a finger to his lips as he did so. The young wizard realised that, of course, if he could hear the guard's footsteps, the guard would most certainly hear any conversation from inside the cell. He nodded to show he understood, then waited impatiently for the half-hour to pass before the guard once more set off on his rounds. 

Harry glanced around him. The cell was small; a thin, unglazed window allowed access to the bitter wind, chilling the air in the room, and Harry could imagine how cold the chamber would become in the winter. Against one wall stood a toilet with a wash basin next to it. A shelf held the few belongings Lucius had been allowed to keep. A small wooden table was the only other furniture in the room apart from the bed.

At last the warden got up to go on his patrol. As the sound of his footsteps died away, Lucius spoke, his voice a whisper.

"Mr Potter. And to what do I owe this unexpected, ah, pleasure? Surely a simple request for a visit would have been less trouble than creeping about under invisibility cloaks and picking locks?"

Harry grinned. "Maybe, but as I intend for you to leave with me, I don't think a legitimate visit would have served my purpose."

Lucius raised his eyebrows again. "Leave with you? So this isn't just a social call, then?"

Harry crossed to the bed where Lucius was casually sprawled, and perched on the side.

"I have a proposition for you," Harry went on.

Lucius regarded him stonily but said nothing.

Harry quailed slightly under the forbidding gaze of the Death Eater, but soldiered on.

"I need your help." 

Lucius smiled mirthlessly, then held up his hand before Harry could continue.

Harry scowled in frustration as the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He had spent the entire morning waiting in the corridor, and now that he had reached his goal, he was going to have to speak in ten-minute sound bites or less, if the guard's last trip was anything to go by.

Lucius leaned forward and pulled Harry towards him. With his lips brushing Harry's ear he whispered, barely audibly, "Relock the door next time he leaves." Harry had to stifle a tremor as Lucius' hair tickled the side of his neck, but he managed to nod to show he had heard. Lucius sank back onto his pillow, his face expressionless, and stared unblinkingly at Harry.

The young wizard dropped his gaze to his hands, twiddling his thumbs, acutely aware that he was the focus of Lucius’ attention. Unable to stand the scrutiny any longer, he got up and went to peer out of the window. The island looked no more attractive from up here than it had from down below, and Harry turned away and retook his seat on the bed.

The half-hour seemed to pass even more slowly than the ones he had spent in the passage, but eventually he heard the guard leave. Harry waited a minute then went to relock the door. A few minutes later he heard Lucius leave the bed and come to stand by his side.

"What on earth gave you the ludicrous idea that I would in any way, shape or form be prepared to help you?" he hissed.

"Maybe I thought the prospect of freedom would help sway your mind," Harry said through gritted teeth, concentrating on the lock. When the tumblers fell back into the locked position, he stood up.

"I presume you've heard about Dumbledore?"

"No. I haven't received my usual edition of the Prophet this morning," Lucius said sarcastically. "How can I possibly have heard anything about anything, you foolish boy?”

"Don't you talk to the other prisoners? Or the Guards?"

"I'm a _solitary_ , Potter. I may speak to whomever I please; they however are not permitted to speak to me." 

"Oh, sorry."

Lucius waited a moment for Harry to continue before prompting him "Well? You were saying…?"

"He's dead," Harry said shortly, glaring at Lucius. "Killed by Snape.”

Lucius mouth opened soundlessly, a frown furrowing his brow. "What?"

"Professor Snape cursed Professor Dumbledore with an Avada Kedavra. Dumbledore was weak from…from something else and was unable to protect himself." 

"How do you know this?"

"I was there. We, the Headmaster and I, had just returned to Hogwarts wheuffff—" 

Lucius had clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. Once again the approaching warden had curtailed their conversation. But this time, Lucius pulled Harry back to the bed and gestured to the boy to lie down. Harry looked askance at the older wizard, but then did as he was told. Lucius lay down next to the young wizard, squashing against him on the hard narrow bed, his mouth at Harry's ear.

"Talk," he breathed 

So Harry talked. Angling his head and sweeping aside the soft blonde hair, Harry pressed his lips to Lucius’ ear and talked. He told Lucius everything. From his and Dumbledore's trips into the Pensieve, to the final fateful night at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Lucius listened without comment, but Harry felt the older man's body tense when he related the part that Draco had played. 

Just as Harry finished his narration, there was a gentle “pop” as a tray of food appeared on the small, wooden bedside table. Lucius sat up abruptly and picked up a roll of bread from the tray. He contemplated it a moment, glanced at the hopeful look on Harry's face, then, with a sigh, tore the bread in half and offered a share to the young wizard. Harry accepted it gratefully and began to eat. They shared the watery stew also, Lucius staring distastefully at the fork Harry had used, before his hunger got the better of him. The moment they had finished eating, the tray vanished again.

“You eat fast here or you don’t eat at all,” Lucius mouthed.

Harry needed to use the loo but was embarrassed to ask, let alone use it in front of Lucius. But Lucius, after making a stirring motion with his finger to indicate he wished Harry to turn around, relieved himself, and Harry quickly followed suit.

They settled once more back onto the bed. Harry had to admit he was grateful for the warmth of the other man, the room rapidly growing colder as darkness gathered outside.

"Remind me why you are here?" Lucius whispered once they were both as comfortable as they could be.

"As I said before, I need your help. And I think Draco does too. I need a way to get close to Voldemort. You would be _my_ way in, _Draco’s_ way out.” 

"And what makes you think I _want_ Draco out?"

"Because he’s miserable. He doesn't want to serve Voldemort." Harry paused. "It's no secret that Draco and I don't…get on.” 

"He has mentioned his antipathy toward you on a number of occasions,” Lucius commented dryly. 

"But I wouldn't wish Voldemort on my worst enemy," Harry continued. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "There's, er… something else.”

"I thought there must be," Lucius whispered, "because nothing you have said so far is enough to give me any inclination to help you."

"Our Order agents came in with a report three days ago. Mr. Malfoy, I'm really sorry, I don't know how to tell you this….”

"Quickly? Before I strangle you with my bare hands?"

"Our agents reported that Voldemort had killed your wife." 

Lucius was silent. Harry thought about adding more, but wisely decided to keep silent.

Finally Lucius spoke. “Why?” 

“Something to do with not trusting her, I think. And something she made Snape promise, we’re not really sure, but it appears that Snape informed on her to Voldemort…” Harry trailed off.

“She turned him down, then,” Lucius muttered, more to himself than Harry. “Stupid woman, she always was too emotional.”

Harry blinked at Lucius’ coldness. He had hoped this final bit of information would be the clincher for Mr Malfoy. Now it seemed as if he had cared little about his wife.   
Lucius was silent again, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, causing Harry to try and shrink further against the cold stone wall against which the bed was pushed. 

At last the older man said, “So, how do we leave?” He turned to look at Harry. Noting the surprise on the boy’s face, he added, “I may not have been particularly close to Narcissa, but she was mine. And nobody takes what is mine.” 

Harry saw the Death Eater in Lucius’ eyes, cold and implacable. He realised far more than he ever had before, just how dangerous this man was. This man whom he intended to spring from Azkaban prison. This man who could stab him in the back without pausing for breath. This man, who, if he were honest, scared him. But as the old adage went, “keep your friends close, your enemies closer”. Harry took a deep breath and proceeded to tell Lucius his plan.


	3. Escape

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Three—Escape**

Harry talked as the light in the small cell faded, and night fell. His plan was simple.

Somewhere in the prison was an Apparation point, the only place where one could magically arrive and depart from the castle. Harry hadn't used it to enter Azkaban for two reasons: firstly, as soon as anyone Apparated in, an alarm would sound and steel bars would crash down, effectively blocking any exit from the room; secondly, he was not yet confident enough to Apparate alone. Lucius had shaken his head at this last bit of knowledge.

"You really do embody the spirit of Gryffindor. Reckless courage. Yes, Potter, I did say courage. Sadly, it _wasn't_ a compliment. How you have reached the grand old age of…seventeen, I shall never know, but then you always _did_ have a knack for extracting yourself from life and death situations."

"I believe _you_ were responsible for some of them.”

The sound of voices outside caused a sudden cessation of their conversation. Lucius grabbed Harry's invisibility cloak, quickly threw it over the boy, then lay back on the bed. However, they were not disturbed. The guard changed, and one set of footsteps faded into the distance. The loud creak of a chair indicated that the new guard had taken his seat.

After a short while, Lucius rose off the bed and indicated to Harry he should do likewise, then he pulled back the thin blanket, and gestured to Harry to get underneath. Getting in beside Harry, he pulled the blanket back over them. 

Harry had been in many bizarre situations in his brief life, but being snuggled under a blanket in bed with Lucius Malfoy had to rank up there with the strangest. He caught his breath as Lucius' silver eyes burned into his.

"Don't get excited, Potter. This is simply for expediency's sake; it gets damn cold in here. You may, if you prefer, lie outside the covers?"

Harry blushed, shook his head, then tried to concentrate on relating his plan. Somehow being _under_ the blanket with Lucius felt a lot more intimate than lying _on top_ of the blanket with him. Lucius tossed the invisibility cloak over them both, and for all intents and purposes, they disappeared into their own small world.

Harry struggled on with his idea. He and Lucius were to leave the cell under the cover of Harry's cloak when the guard left on his patrol, hide in the alcove until he passed back the other way, then make their way to the Apparation point, assuming Lucius knew where it was.

"What?” Lucius asked coldly.

"Well, I assumed you would know where it was, having arrived that way?”

"And what if I hadn't?" Lucius hissed waspishly.

"Then I'd have to go and have another look at the map in Hammett's office," Harry replied, stung by Lucius' tone of voice. " _Do_ you know where it is?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Prisoners do, however, usually arrive by boat. I was an exception.”

"Well, that's okay then." Harry smiled brightly.

Lucius rolled his eyes.

Harry went on. "So, we Apparate out of here. We'll have to keep moving because no doubt they'll follow us. Am I right in thinking people can trace Apparations?"

"You are. But surely if we Apparate to Order headquarters, they have wards in place that will prevent us from being followed?"

Harry reddened. "Um, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not? Wait a minute." Lucius glared at Harry. "They don't know you're here, do they? Well, honestly. I was going to have serious words with whoever had sanctioned this hare-brained scheme, but to think you did this off your own bat…" Lucius trailed off, obviously too angry to speak.

"Why would you have had serious words?" Harry asked curiously.

"Do you really need to ask? Even _I_ wouldn't have let you come. You do realise I could quite easily have killed you?"

"Yes, you tried to before."

"As a matter of fact, I didn't. What I did was save your life at the Ministry.

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically. "Really? You went to great lengths to disguise the fact."

Lucius ignored him. "We are straying from the point. What we will do is Apparate to my house. The Manor is second only to Hogwarts in terms of security. The wards will prevent anyone from following us, and whilst they will realise that it was _I_ who Apparated, after they have checked the cells to see who is missing, by the time they reach the Manor, we shall be long gone. Taking with us some useful items, like my spare wand.”

"Where will we go?"

"To a little bolt-hole of mine."

"Where's that, then?"

"That information is _need to know_ only. You do _not_ need to know, therefore I am not going to tell you." 

“Fine, be like that.” Harry smothered a huge yawn. He had been awake since the early hours of the morning, and now he felt weariness seeping through his body, dragging his eyelids shut.

“Sleep,” Lucius commanded. “We have plenty of time before we need to go, as the guards are always less vigilant in the early hours. I’ll wake you when I feel we should leave.”

Harry struggled to rouse himself. "There's one more thing." He went on to tell Lucius about the Horcruxes. 

The older wizard was keenly interested. "So, you mean to tell me that the diary was a Horcrux?"

Harry nodded. "We think so. Which means that with the destruction of the ring and the diary, and the fact that Voldemort was unable to complete the ritual for the last split, there are three parts of his soul left. And Voldemort himself." He yawned again, and this time Lucius insisted he get some sleep.

"Um, you won't go without me, will you?"

Lucius gave him a strange look. "No, Mr Potter, I won't go without you. I have a feeling your resourcefulness may well come in handy."

Harry burrowed under the blanket, and was soon asleep.

********

Lucius stared into the darkness. He mulled over the strange turn of events. It had taken all his Death Eater training not to start in surprise when Harry had revealed himself. The child was certainly audacious, he would give him that. And brave. Oh yes, Lucius was well aware of just how brave Mr. Potter was. A bravery that would stand him in good stead in the days to come, if Lucius knew anything about anything. But so trusting. There was nothing to stop Lucius from taking Harry's invisibility cloak for himself, relieving Harry of his lock pick and making good his escape. Except…except for what? Lucius asked himself.

Except for the fact that Lucius wanted revenge on Voldemort for the murder of his wife and the ruthless manipulation of his son. The thought of Draco caused Lucius to turn to the sleeping boy. Maybe in the Order ranks there would be some protection for Draco, and maybe even a place for himself. Merlin only knew, that if they were lax enough to let Harry slip away on this ill thought-out scheme, they could do with some advice on security matters. He smiled in the dark at the thought of Harry curled up asleep, pressed to the side of one of the most feared Death Eaters there had ever been. So trusting.

Lucius suddenly felt a lot older than his forty-three years. He let out a sigh, then closed his eyes.

********

Harry awoke to Lucius shaking him. He blinked groggily and sat up. Lucius had already risen; as soon as he saw Harry was awake, he moved to the door and gestured for Harry to join him.

"The guard has just gone. Unlock the door now, then we will have to wait until the next patrol before we go."

Harry quickly inserted the lock pick and got to work. A few minutes, and several satisfying clicks later, the door was once more unlocked, and he and Lucius retreated to the bed to wait for their opportunity. A couple of minutes after the guard had once more departed on his patrol, Harry draped them both with the invisibility cloak, thanking his lucky stars that it was so voluminous. They cracked open the door. After glancing down the corridor to ensure it was safe to leave, Harry and Lucius slipped out, closed the door behind them, and crept down the passage to the alcove.

After the guard passed them on the way back to his desk, they were free to move on. As quietly as they could, the pair made their way along the passage to the top of the staircase. While Harry had been working on the lock, Lucius had told him that the Apparation point was in the castle dungeons. They would have to negotiate the stairs, follow a corridor towards the back of the prison, and find the steps that led to the lower levels. Once there, they would have to find the Apparation room in the maze of passages, then enter and Apparate. 

They made it to the bottom of the stairs without seeing a single guard, but ten yards down the passage that led to the dungeon stairs, two guards came walking towards them. There was no room in the narrow corridor for Harry and Lucius as well as the two guards, so they had to back up into the entrance hall. They only made it just in time. One of the guards looked around suspiciously.

"Did you hear something?"

The other guard glanced round. "Probably a rat—bloody place is full of them.” 

The first guard laughed. "Yeah, and that's just the prisoners!"

The second guard joined in with his own guffaws, then the pair went off across the hall. Lucius and Harry set off down the passage again, keeping an eye open for places to retreat if another guard came along. They were lucky—the stairs appeared on their left, and they descended, keeping close to the wall as they rounded a corner.

The dungeons were even gloomier than the rest of the prison. The few sputtering torches cast scant light; the air was damp and smelt of decay. 

Lucius put his mouth to Harry's ear. "So far so good. I doubt there will be any guards patrolling, as there are no prisoners detained down here, but we must remain vigilant. The room itself is guarded, of course, but we will deal with that when we get there."

They stole along between wet, green-slimed walls. At several places Lucius stopped, as if trying to remember the way. On two occasions they had to double back when the particular corridor they had chosen to follow came to a dead end, but eventually they came to the Apparation room.

It was at the end of a corridor. An archway led into the room itself, in front of which two guards were seated at a desk, conversing in lowered voices. There didn't appear to be any way past them. The gap between the desk and the wall was only wide enough for one person to pass at a time. Lucius pulled Harry away, and moved them back around a corner. He spoke once they were far enough away not to be heard.

"We have a problem. We can't get past the guards under the cloak. The gap isn't wide enough for us both to get through at the same time." He frowned.

"What are we going to do, then?" Harry asked, concern in his voice.

"Just let me think."

"What if we made a noise to get them to come and see what it is?" Harry asked.

"Did you notice that box on the wall behind them?" Lucius queried. "It's an alarm. Anything suspicious, they hit the button, which sets off a siren, and shuts the bars that block the door."

"Oh. Perhaps we could wait until one of them goes to the loo, then sneak past the other one?"

Lucius looked at him. "Adept at silently creeping past people who are less than two feet from you, are you?" Harry opened his mouth to speak but Lucius said wearily, "No, don't answer that question. I already know what you are going to say." When Harry grinned, Lucius muttered, "No wonder Severus disliked you so much. You must have been a nightmare at school. I'd have had you over my knee in the first week, and given you a lesson you wouldn't forget."

Harry's face, which had darkened at the mention of Snape, creased into a grin at this image. "I bet you'd have made a great Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, though." 

"I would have killed you all within the first week," Lucius said shortly. "I loathe children."

In the end, they were saved by serendipity. There was a sudden crash from the Apparation room as the steel bars fell into place.

"Someone must have Apparated in. Quick, now could be our chance." Lucius dragged the cloak over them, and they crept back around the corner.

A man had appeared in the Apparation room, dressed in a pair of striped pyjamas, clutching a crate of bottles. The two guards were addressing him by name, so he was obviously a regular visitor.

"Hutchins," the first guard greeted. "Bloody hell, not another crate already—that must be the second this week?" 

Hutchins put the crate down on the floor of the room. "Yes, it is, and he got me out of bed to deliver the damn thing."

The second guard looked down at the crate. "Well, aren't you going to take it up?" 

There was a grinding noise as the bars slid back up into the ceiling. Hutchins watched them go, then said nastily, "No, I bloody well am not. I'm going back to bed. Tell him to come and get it himself." And with a "pop" he was gone.

The two guards stared at each other.

"Well, what do we do now?" They both turned to look at the crate. "If he made Hutchins get out of bed to deliver it, I suppose one of us had better take it up."

The second guard said, "Okay, I'll go. I could do with a piss anyway." He went and picked up the box. Harry and Lucius moved back to the nearest doorway, waiting for the guard to go past. Lucius turned to Harry.

"Can you trust me?"

"Why?"

"I'm going to need your cloak, and I'm going to need to do this alone."

Harry stared at Lucius as he considered. "I've trusted you so far. Just don't let me down, okay?" He handed the cloak to Lucius who took it, and draped it around himself, then went off towards the Apparation room. Two minutes later he returned, the cloak over one arm. 

"Come on, hurry." 

When they turned the corner, Harry saw the remaining guard slumped over his desk. Lucius had obviously crept up and knocked the man out cold. At least that was what Harry hoped—the man looked awfully still. They entered the Apparation room.

"Hold tight," Lucius ordered. 

Harry took hold of Lucius' arm, then the familiar feeling of being squeezed through a rubber tube washed over him. He staggered slightly when he realised they had stopped moving, and opened his eyes.


	4. Silent Running

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Four —Silent Running**

Harry gazed around him. They had arrived in what appeared to be a study. There was a large desk in the centre of the room. A bookcase, stuffed with what must have been hundreds of books, flanked an ornate marble fireplace. Wooden panelling decorated the walls, and an enormous Turkish rug covered the timber floor. A pair of large, brown leather armchairs was positioned before the empty grate.

Lucius was already busy retrieving items from the desk drawers and placing them in a pile on the tooled, green leather top.

"Can I help?" Harry asked.

"Not necessary," Lucius answered briefly. "I want to be gone from here as soon as possible." He moved to the bookcase, and began searching through the numerous volumes, pulling down several from the shelves, and adding them to the pile of items on the desk. Lucius glanced at Harry.

"Be a good boy and put these into a bag, would you?" Lucius pulled out a black case from a cupboard and handed it to Harry. "I'm just going to get some clothes, then I'll be back." He exited the room, leaving Harry to pack.

When Lucius returned, he was carrying another case. He placed it by the side of the one Harry had filled, then went once again to the bookcase. Bending down, he lifted a huge tome from the bottom shelf, then reached behind it. There was an audible “click”, and Harry glanced around for the source of the noise. A small door had swung open in the panelling covering one of the walls. The older wizard hurried to the exposed alcove and began rooting through its contents. He withdrew a long, dark-coloured wand, swishing it experimentally. A smile spread over his face. "Ah, it's good to have a wand in my hand again.” He pointed it at Harry.

Harry swallowed hard, but Lucius just grinned, revealing a row of even, white teeth. He muttered something Harry didn't quite hear, then the young wizard suddenly felt himself lifting off the ground. Lucius twirled the wand, and Harry found himself drifting across the room toward the older wizard, toes trailing on the floor. He was within two feet of Lucius when the man set him back on his feet as he laughed.

"Come on Harry, stop _hanging around_. We have work to do." 

At last, Lucius decided that they had everything they needed for the time being. Grabbing Harry again, he Apparated them away.

********

The place in which Harry now found himself was much more informal than the stately room they had just left. The ceiling was low, white plaster contrasted with black, oak beams. A fire crackled merrily in an ingle-nook fireplace, before which were positioned two armchairs and a comfortable looking sofa.

Lucius dropped the bags, then threw himself into one of the armchairs with a sigh. "We're free Harry, free!" He grinned and snapped his fingers. A diminutive house-elf appeared, and curtsied. "Yes, sire?”

"Two brandies," Lucius demanded. "Make them large ones." Before Harry had time to protest that he had never drunk brandy, the house-elf had vanished, then reappeared with two brandy glasses, each half full of a deep amber liquid.

"Take a seat, Harry," Lucius said, taking one of the glasses from the elf. Harry sat gingerly on the end of the settee, and reluctantly took the glass the elf offered him. She promptly disappeared, taking the two cases with her. 

"To us, Harry." Lucius raised his glass in Harry's direction.

"To us," Harry mumbled, then took a huge swig of his brandy.

Several minutes of coughing ensued, during which Lucius took turns between thumping Harry on the back and laughing. At last, when Harry was once again able to breathe, Lucius retook his seat. A serious expression settled over his face.

"Whilst technically it may be morning," he said, gesturing towards the pearly light seeping in from between the curtains, "I think we could both do with some sleep. I, for one, am looking forward to crisp sheets and a firm mattress. Tomorrow I must go to the Dark Lord. Once he hears I have escaped from Azkaban, he will expect me.”

"What will you tell him?" Harry asked.

"Oh, that I was able to bribe a new guard. I may embellish the story with tales of how the guards do not seem certain where their loyalties lie." He noticed the concerned expression on Harry's face. "Don't worry, I won't be mentioning your name."

"But will Voldemort believe you? He's a skilled Legilimens, isn't he? Won't he just read your mind?"

Lucius smiled. "The Dark Lord may be adept in the art of Legilimency. I however, am a skilled Occlumens. I'll protect you, never fear. And myself as well. It would not do for him to know of my plans either." The older wizard yawned, stretched, then drained his glass. "Well, I'm off to bed. Coming?" He laughed at the startled expression on Harry's face. "You have your own room, foolish boy." 

Harry blushed furiously but followed Lucius from the room. A narrow flight of stairs led up to a small landing. Lucius showed the Harry the bathroom, and then where the young wizard’s bedroom was situated.

Against a chimney breast a small four-poster bed was positioned, with a deep green, satin quilt. It had been turned down, and the white cotton sheets looked inviting. A pair of pyjamas had been folded on the pillow. 

"Draco's," Lucius explained, noticing the direction of Harry's eyes. "I took the liberty of borrowing some things for you."

"Thank you. That was thoughtful."

Lucius looked at him. "I'm not a complete ogre, you know."

Harry grinned. "I wouldn't have just sprung you from a high security prison if I thought you were. However, you do have to admit that your past reputation probably didn't lead me to suppose you were considerate enough to think of pyjamas.”

"I couldn't have you strolling about at night naked, now could I?" Lucius turned to go. He added something that almost sounded like, "That would be too much of a distraction." 

Harry persuaded himself he must have misheard.

"Goodnight," he called as Lucius shut the bedroom door. Harry turned his attention to the room. Apart from the bed, there was a small chest of drawers on which stood a swinging mirror in a wooden frame. A chair stood in one corner, upholstered in a shade similar to that of the quilt on the bed. Harry moved to the window, his footsteps loud on the polished floorboards, and pulled aside one curtain. Behind it he discovered a window seat, a deep cushion making it an attractive place to sit. He sat down, and tried to discover something of his surroundings in the pale grey morning light. 

Roses clung to the wall around the window. Harry imagined how their scent would pervade the room on a warm evening. Below was a small patio area. Harry could just make out several chairs and a table. Beyond the patio a lawn stretched away between flowerbeds to what looked as if it might be a stream. Harry decided to explore when he woke up. But now the lure of the bed was becoming irresistible, so he stripped off his clothes and donned the pyjamas. They were made of silk. The material slipped coolly over Harry's naked flesh. It felt strange to be wearing something that was Draco's. The legs were slightly too long, as were the sleeves. Harry wondered if Lucius had thought to provide him with a toothbrush, and set off to find out.

Lucius was exiting the bathroom as Harry left his bedroom. He paused, nodded to Harry, then went into his own room and closed the door. Harry found that Lucius had indeed remembered a toothbrush for him, and was once again amazed at the man's thoughtfulness. Ten minutes later, he was in bed and fast asleep.

********

When Harry finally awoke, he was in a patch of sunshine. His clothes from the night before had been laundered and were folded neatly on the chair. He got out of bed and went to the window. The sun was shining on a pretty cottage-style garden, flowers blooming in a riot of colour in the flowers beds. A stream twinkled and flashed beyond the lawn.

When the smell of food reached Harry's nose, his stomach grumbled. Three minutes later, he was fully dressed and in search of the source of the savoury aromas. He found Lucius sitting on the patio with a cup of coffee in one hand, the Prophet in the other. He looked up as Harry emerged through the French windows.

"Good, you're up. I was beginning to think I would have to come and wake you. There's some food on the side in the kitchen—help yourself." His eyes dropped back to his paper, and Harry returned to the house to find the kitchen. 

He didn't have to look far. Apart from the room they had arrived in the night before, there was only the dining room, which Harry had walked through to reach the patio, and a small kitchen. The tiny house-elf bobbed a curtsey as Harry entered the kitchen, then she gestured to several plates of food on a scrubbed pine table. The young wizard realised just how hungry he was. He piled a plate with bits of bacon, sausages and toast. Then, grabbing a mug full of tea that was offered to him by the elf, he made his way back outside. 

He set the plate down on the table with a sigh of anticipation. Lucius folded back a corner of his paper and looked at the plateful of food. "Ah yes, I had forgotten the voracious appetite of youth. We had better complete our respective tasks soon, before you eat your way through whatever is left of the Malfoy fortune." He retreated back behind the newspaper, leaving Harry to munch his way happily through the delicious food.

When Harry had assuaged the best part of his hunger, he turned his attention once more to his surroundings. The cottage was built of red brick under a slate roof. Roses rambled over a large part of it. Harry glanced at Lucius, then back at the cottage. Somehow he couldn't equate the cottage with the man. Malfoy Manor suited Lucius, from what little he had seen of it. Not this quaint country retreat.

"Is this cottage really yours?" he asked eventually.

Lucius looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. It doesn't seem very _you_."

"You mean, it doesn't seem the very _me_ you think I am.”

Harry took a moment to work this out. "I see. Yes, I suppose it was presumptuous of me to judge you purely on what little I know of you. I forget that there is probably another side of you.”

"Only _probably_?” 

Harry laughed. "Sorry, of course there is another side of you. I just find it hard to, hmm, reconcile the one with the other."

It was Lucius’ turn to laugh. "You have never seen me as the _cottage_ type?”

"No. That room at the Manor seemed much more _you_ , or should I say much more the person I thought you were."

Lucius put his paper down. "There is, of course, a lot about me you don't know. I, naturally, know a great deal about you. Perhaps by the end of this we will have redressed the balance."

"I'd _like_ to know more about you."

Lucius looked at Harry steadily. "Would you indeed?”

Harry dropped his gaze and finished his tea. "I'd better go and retrieve my wand," he said finally.

"What?" Lucius asked sharply.

"My wand. I have to go and get it."

"Where the hell is it?"

"I had to put it somewhere safe before I went to Azkaban. I couldn't take it with me or it would have shown up on the sensors."

"Next you're going to tell me you buried it beneath an oak tree at midnight!"

"It wasn't midnight," Harry mumbled.

Lucius looked at him with exasperation. "Just when I thought I had plumbed the depths of your stupidity." He shook his head, then stood up and said wearily, "Where do you need taking?"

"Um, I can’t remember what the place is called. It's the port where the supply boats leave from."

"How did you get there in the first place?" Lucius asked suspiciously.

Harry looked abashed. "I hitched."

"You hitched?"

"Well, I couldn't Apparate. I didn't know if there was a Floo connection, and I could hardly just get on the Knight Bus, not when I was trying to keep what I was doing a secret." Harry stared defensively at the older wizard.

Lucius began to laugh. "Come on, let’s get going, before the temptation to put you over my knee becomes too strong to resist. I know the place.”

Harry rose and came to stand by Lucius, who put his arm around him, and then they Apparated.

They collected Harry's wand and the bundle of his belongings with no trouble and were back within the hour.

********

That evening, Lucius had to go and face Voldemort. Harry had retrieved one of the books that Lucius had brought from the Manor, and was curled up on the sofa, deeply immersed in its pages when Lucius came to him.

He reached a hand down and smoothed Harry's hair. The young wizard started, and gazed up at Lucius.

"I have to go, Harry. I have left it as long as I dare, but the Dark Lord will be expecting me. Things may get…tricky. I need you to stay aware, and keep your wand with you."

He brushed the back of his hand over Harry's cheek and turned to go.

"Lucius? Take care, okay?"

Lucius turned back to Harry and smiled. "This is _me_ you're talking to; I wouldn't have survived as long as I have if I didn't take care. Don't worry, I'll be back." At the door he turned again to Harry and said sternly, "Don't go anywhere. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, his fingers firmly crossed. Lucius gave him one last look, then left.


	5. Closer

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Five — Closer**

After the "pop" that told of Lucius' departure, Harry stared into the fireplace, his eyes on the jar of Floo powder that was placed in a bracket to one side. He wanted to get a message to Ron and Hermione, to let them know he was safe. Harry figured if he could get to Grimmauld Place, then he could Floo the Burrow from there. That way he would not give away his location. Harry paled at the thought of the reaction of the Order members if they should discover what he had done.

Making his decision to disobey Lucius, Harry stepped into the grate, and reached for a handful of Floo powder. Tucking his elbows into his sides, he enunciated clearly his destination, then cast the dust into the hearth

Lucius' voice boomed out, "What did I tell you, Potter? Get out of the fireplace." 

Harry sulkily retook his seat. So Lucius had blocked the Floo system. He obviously knew Harry better than Harry had realised. He allowed himself a rueful smile. Picking up the book he had been studying, Harry returned to his investigation into Horcruxes. He would simply have to come out and _ask_ Lucius if he could go.

********

It was close to midnight when Lucius finally returned. Harry had been dozing on the sofa when the soft "pop" roused him to full consciousness. Lucius stood, swaying slightly, before the fire. Without a word he crumpled to his knees. Harry was beside him in a flash, his arms cradling Lucius' body.

"Oh gods, Lucius. Lucius speak to me!" A soft moan reached his ears. "Lucius, can you hear me?" 

"Of course I can hear you," Lucius said faintly, "I doubt there's anyone for a mile around who hasn't."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Lucius spoke again, "Get Tildy."

"Tildy? Who's Tildy?"

Lucius was saved from having to answer this question by the appearance of the house-elf. She patted Harry's arm. "Tildy will take the Master. Don't worry, sir. Master will be all right." A "pop", and both she and Lucius Apparated. Harry stared at the spot where Lucius had been, then jumped to his feet, and charged upstairs.

Tildy had transferred Lucius to his bedroom. Harry stood by the door for a moment, then went in. Lucius' room was larger than his own. A great four-poster bed, hung with curtains of black velvet dominated the floor space. The older wizard was lying on the bedcovers, and Tildy was removing his jacket. Harry hurried to the other side of the bed and began to assist. Tildy gave him a brief, questioning look, then got on with the task of stripping Lucius. Together they removed Lucius' jacket, waistcoat and shirt. Tildy went to the foot of the bed and removed Lucius' shoes and socks, then pulled off his trousers, leaving Lucius clad only in a pair of black silk boxer shorts. 

As the white skin of Lucius' body was exposed, Harry gazed with horror at the injuries revealed. The ones inflicted that night were either livid bruises or gashes in the flesh. Elsewhere there were old scars, faint silver lines on the porcelain skin. 

Tildy had left the room but now returned with two pots of salve. She handed one to Harry, motioning to him to apply the cream to the bruises. Harry scooped a dollop onto his fingers, and began to carefully apply it to the marks on Lucius’ flesh. Lucius had lapsed into unconsciousness during the move upstairs, but now he opened his eyes. They narrowed slightly as he took in the sight of Harry ministering to him, but he did not speak.

While Harry applied the salve to all of Lucius’ injuries, Tildy bound up the open wounds. Then the house-elf withdrew. The night was warm, but Lucius shivered. Harry ran to fetch the cover from his own bed, unwilling to disturb Lucius by trying to extract the cover from beneath him. He draped it gently over the man. 

"Thank you Harry," Lucius whispered. "Things were a little worse tonight than I had anticipated."

"Shhh, don't talk. Just try to sleep."

Lucius was too weak to argue. He simply shut his eyes. Soon Harry heard his breathing deepen. The young wizard looked around the room, and spotted a chair. Silently he went and fetched it, then placed it by the bed. He settled upon it, then bent forward to rest on the bed, his head on his arms.

He slept, awakening sometime in the early hours to find Lucius' hand stroking his hair. It was a strangely comforting feeling. Harry drifted back to sleep, a faint smile creasing his lips.

********

Harry awoke the following morning stiff and cold. He stretched, trying to ease some of the aches in his shoulders. Lucius was still sleeping, his pale face framed by even paler hair. Harry studied him. He was still finding it hard to believe that the man before him could be so different from the person he normally seemed to be. The Lucius that Harry had been in the company of the last two days was thoughtful, had a sense of humour, and was in fact an altogether nicer person.

When Harry had first thought about enlisting Lucius' help, he had done so as a last resort. Draco's face haunted him. That look of desperation. The pain in Draco's voice when he had spoken of Voldemort's threat to himself and his family. Draco crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Harry had decided to save Draco if he possibly could. That, coupled with Harry's need to obtain the last Horcruxes, had pointed him in only one direction, Lucius Malfoy. 

Harry had never had a chance to save his own family, but given the opportunity, he knew he would have done whatever it had taken. He could imagine the turmoil in Draco’s mind. The desperate need to keep his family safe. But as each of the schemes to kill Dumbledore failed, the looming threat that Voldemort would kill both him and his parents grew every closer. Draco hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. His lowering of his wand had made that abundantly clear to Harry. He was just a boy, like Harry himself, who found himself in a situation he couldn’t cope with. 

Harry supposed he could have simply released Lucius; then let the man go on his way to rescue his son. But he knew how powerful a wizard Lucius was. If Lucius came over to the side of the Light, he would be a great help. He also knew that if Lucius could be persuaded, he could be the way for Harry to get close enough to Voldemort to obtain the vital information that would lead them to the whereabouts of the last Horcruxes. And a way in at the end, when Harry was ready to face Voldemort. If he ever was ready, Harry thought to himself.

The prospect of going to Lucius for help had frightened Harry, and only the fact that he had nowhere else to turn had forced him to do so. Lucius was the only Death Eater that Harry knew who could possibly have a motive to turn against Voldemort. Whilst there _were_ Order members undercover in Voldemort’s group, they were mere pawns beside Lucius. They could never get as close to Voldemort as Lucius could; they would never be privy to the Dark Lord’s plans and confidences. And whilst Voldemort might keep his cards close to his chest, there was far more chance of Lucius Malfoy learning something that could be of use to Harry, than there was of the Order agents doing so. When the agents had brought in the report about Narcissa's death, Harry had made up his mind.

Now, sitting here by Lucius' bed, he was very glad he had braved Azkaban to release him. Lucius somehow made Harry feel safe. He was such a capable man. Harry took hold of one of Lucius' pale, slender hands, and vowed silently to do all he could to help Draco. Then rid the world of Voldemort. Now that Lucius was with him, he felt he might just succeed. Dumbledore had always been more of a mentor. Apart from the episode in the Ministry of Magic, Harry found it hard to picture Dumbledore in a combat situation, whereas Lucius…well, Lucius he could imagine in the thick of the fray.

Lucius woke suddenly, his eyes boring into Harry’s. "What time is it?" he demanded.

Harry glanced at his watch. "Just gone eight. How do you feel?"

"A damn sight better than I did last night." Lucius struggled into a sitting position, grimacing in pain for a moment before schooling his features into blank neutrality. 

"Can I get you something to eat?"

"Just a cup of coffee, if you wouldn't mind.”

Harry went down to the kitchen, where he found Tildy cooking sausages and bacon. She put a tray together for him to take up to Lucius, that included food as well as the coffee. Harry took the tray back upstairs to Lucius, and then descended to the kitchen to provide himself with breakfast.

He had just finished four rashers of bacon, four sausages, an egg and a large slice of black pudding when Lucius stepped through the French doors. He gingerly took the seat opposite to Harry.

"Things are bad Harry. I had no idea just how far things had gone. If we don't act soon, it may be too late to stop Voldemort."

"Did you see Draco?" Harry asked.

Lucius looked troubled. "No, and I'm worried. I managed to speak to some of the others before I was called to Voldemort's presence. It seems that Severus has taken Draco somewhere. He was absent when Narcissa was murdered, so I don't even know if he is aware that his mother is dead." Lucius passed a hand over his face. "From what I can gather, Voldemort is not pleased with him. He was most certainly not pleased with _me_. He took it upon himself to remember all my past mistakes, real and imagined. The diary incident was a particularly _sore_ point." Lucius winced at his own joke. "Then the Ministry of Magic debacle had to be gone over in detail."

"You mentioned before that you saved my life at the Ministry. What did you mean?"

"Bella would have killed you if I hadn't stopped her," Lucius said simply.

"Why _did_ you stop her," Harry asked curiously.

"Let's just say," Lucius began slowly, "that I felt it prudent to keep my options open at that point." He looked at Harry with a slight smile on his lips.

"You mean you had thoughts about changing sides even then?”

“Changing sides, Harry? Whoever said anything about changing sides?”

The smile melted off Harry’s face; he looked startled. “But I thought…you said…you’re helping me!”

“I’m helping _me_ , Harry. It just so happens that our goals are the same. _I_ wish to kill Voldemort for revenge. _You_ want to kill Voldemort to save the wizarding world, and whilst your motive may be infinitely more admirable than my own, my motive is just as important to me as yours is to you. Besides,” Lucius added, smiling slightly at the stunned expression on Harry’s face, “should we achieve our aim, there will be no _sides_.

He smiled more broadly. “Relax, Harry. If it puts your mind at rest, I’ll be on _your_ side. After all, we _do_ both want the same thing.”

There was few minutes silence as Harry digested this. Finally he said, “Well, whatever your motives, Lucius, I’m glad you here, and you _are_ helping me, whatever you say!”

Lucius looked grave again. "We must try and discover as much about these Horcruxes as we can. I will be better placed, next time I go to Voldemort, to do a little more gentle digging. Meanwhile, you can see if you can discover anything from the journals and books I brought with us from the Manor."

"I had a quick look through one of the books last night." Harry paused. "What are you going to do about Draco?"

"I will have to try and find out where Severus has taken him. No doubt he will be closely guarded. Again, I may find an opportunity to ask Voldemort at the next summons. He won't find it too extraordinary that I should wish to see my son after being so long in prison."

"Did he believe your story then?"

"He seemed to. Actually, he appeared to be rather annoyed that I hadn't escaped sooner." Lucius laughed bitterly. "If last night was anything to go by, I'm glad he _has_ had eighteen months to calm down! Merlin knows if I'd still be alive if he'd had access to me sooner."

"Why did you serve him, Lucius?" Harry asked, a frown creasing his brow.

Lucius looked down at his hands, then raised his eyes to Harry. "What you have to understand, Harry, is that the Malfoy family is very distinguished, and very old. They have always taken pride in their pureblood. To be anything less, was to be unworthy of being a wizard. I was brought up with this attitude. It was drummed into me from an early age. I learnt to despise anyone my family considered _beneath_ us.”

"But Voldemort is a half-blood. How could you follow him?"

"Voldemort did a very good job of disguising his ancestry. As I am sure you became aware in the Department of Mysteries, even his closest followers were unaware of his lineage."

Harry nodded, remembering Bella Lestrange's fury over his accusation.

Lucius went on. "When I was a young man, Voldemort seemed to embody everything I believed in. A pureblood Wizarding world, with no taint of Muggle blood."

"But why is that so important?" Harry interjected. "Why shouldn't there be Muggle blood?"

“Muggle blood was thought to taint, dilute, if you like, wizard blood. It was thought by some that if pure blood became _too_ diluted, then wizards would cease to exist. I suppose it all stemmed from a sense of self-preservation.”

“But there are some wizards who come from non-wizarding families.”

Lucius smiled. “Ah yes, Miss Granger. An exceptionally talented witch, if my sources are correct. But Muggle-born witches and wizards are a comparatively rare occurrence.”

“There were others at Hogwarts who were Muggle-born.”

“Of course there were. But think about it, Harry. There were, what? Forty children, perhaps less, in the entire school? Now think about the number of Muggle families living in Britain.”

Harry frowned as he digested this thought, and then finally said slowly, “I see what you mean. But why does Voldemort have to persecute Muggles? Why can’t he just leave them alone?”

“Revenge,” Lucius said succinctly. “I have done a little digging of my own since we arrived here. Now that I know a little more about Voldemort’s background, I think his obsession with Muggle oppression has more to do with his father’s rejection of his mother, than with any notions of protecting the wizarding world.” He took a sip from the cup of coffee that he had brought outside. 

There was a silence between the two for a few minutes. Then, restless, Harry got up and walked off down the garden. He reached the stream that chuckled over stones at the end of the lawn, and crouched down, watching the play of light as it sparkled on the water from between the leaves of an apple tree that overhung the stream. Harry was aware that Lucius was watching him, but was glad the older wizard remained where he was, giving Harry time to collect his thoughts.

A lot of what Lucius had said about pureblood finally made sense to Harry. He could understand now why some considered it important to keep their wizard blood pure. If it was true that wizards would cease to exist if wizard blood became too dilute, then he had to acknowledge that there might be some merit attached to trying to arrange pureblood marriages.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder. Lucius, having decided that Harry had had enough time to himself, had come silently down the garden to join him.

“There’s a good fishing spot just further down stream,” he commented.

Harry laughed. “Now that’s something I _definitely_ can’t imagine you doing.” He looked up at Lucius, squinting against the sunshine, then got to his feet, Lucius’ hand still on his shoulder. “Lucius, I need to get in touch with Ron and Hermione, to let them know I’m okay. They can pass on a message to the rest of the Order.”

“I wondered if you were going to tell me what you were up to last night.”

Harry grinned ruefully. “There’s a safe place I can go, and from there I can Floo the Burrow. They won’t know I’m here that way.”

“Will you tell them that we’re working together?”

Harry grimaced. “I don’t think so, not yet. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would have kittens, and Remus would probably want to come and fight you. It would be too messy. Maybe later.”

“Our little secret then?”

The young wizard turned, and smiled up at Lucius. “If that’s okay with you?”

Lucius shrugged. “This is mostly your party, Harry, and I am perfectly happy to keep you to myself a while longer.”

Harry felt a strange fluttering in his stomach. The weight of Lucius’ arm around his shoulder suddenly seemed heavier, and he became acutely aware of the warmth of Lucius’ body. He ducked out from beneath the arm, and strode off up the garden, calling back over his shoulder, “I’d better get some more research done.”

Harry realised that Lucius might think the abruptness of his departure a little strange, but Harry had to get away from the man in order to figure out what had just happened. The last time Harry had felt a sensation like the one he had just experienced, it had been with Ginny Weasley.


	6. Study and Grimmauld Place

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Six—Study and Grimmauld Place**

Harry had immersed himself in another book by the time Lucius came to find him. The young wizard was disturbed to notice his heart begin to beat faster when Lucius entered the lounge.

“I have removed the block on the Floo. I believe you mentioned wanting to contact your friends?” Lucius said coolly.

Harry glanced up from the book. “Oh, yes. Yes, I’ll go now, thank you.”

Lucius looked at Harry, his eyes narrowed. “Are you all right, Harry? You seem… disturbed about something.”

Harry tried to meet Lucius’ eyes. “I’m fine. Just worried about…everything, I suppose.” He dropped his eyes back to his book

Lucius regarded him for a moment, and then said smoothly, “Do you wish me to accompany you?”

“No!” Harry said quickly. “I mean, I have to go on my own. This place is secret. And very safe,” he added quickly. “Really, there is no need to worry about me. I’ll be there and back in less than an hour.” Harry got to his feet.

“Well, you trusted me, so I suppose I have to return the favour. But don’t let _me_ down, Harry.” Lucius stood to one side as the boy entered the fireplace, then told him the address to which he should return. "I will leave the Floo open for one hour only, Harry," he warned.

Harry stopped, embarrassed.

“Ah, I see. You can’t tell me where you are going, so I must leave the room whilst you give directions to the Floo Network?” Lucius took a deep breath, then turned and left the room. 

Harry quickly gave directions to Grimmauld Place, cast the Floo powder into the grate, and once again experienced the horrible feeling of sickness as he was whirled to his destination.

********

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place had that dank, musty feeling that a place gets when no one has resided in it for a long time. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, and there appeared to be a spider convention going on in the corners of the room.

Harry stood for a moment, listening to see if he could detect any noise in the hopefully empty house. Silence met his ears, and with a sigh of relief, Harry followed the faint set of footprints he had made on his last visit here: into the hallway and up the stairs to the room he had shared with Ron. There, at the end of his bed, stood his school trunk. Harry hurried to it and lifted the lid to check that the contents were all there, just as he had left them. Satisfied that this was indeed the case, Harry snapped the lid shut again, and dragged the trunk back downstairs to the kitchen. After placing it in readiness by the fireplace, Harry decided to have a quick look around the house. He didn’t go far; a glance into the room that held the Black family tapestry; a scout through some of the bedrooms, and he had had enough. 

The house reminded him too much of Sirius. He could almost hear his godfather’s voice echoing along the dusty passages. Returning to the kitchen, Harry steeled himself to have a quick poke into Kreacher’s den, just to make sure the house-elf had not returned from his duties at Hogwarts. The nest of rags beneath the boiler was as layered with dust as the rest of the house. Oddments that Kreacher had rescued when they had cleared out the house two summers ago, still showed amongst the other rubbish the house-elf had accumulated. Unwilling to disturb the pile of refuse, afraid of what he might discover, Harry went back to the fireplace, stuck in his head, and prepared to Floo the Burrow. 

The first person to meet his eyes on arrival in the Weasley kitchen was Hermione. She was hunched over the kitchen table, intently studying a large book; she appeared to be alone, which suited Harry perfectly.

"Hermione," he hissed.

Hermione started and twisted round in her seat. She gave a small cry of surprise, and then promptly burst into tears. A second later she was on her knees by the fire.

"Oh, Harry. Are you all right? Everyone is so worried about you. Where are you? Where have you been? Oh." She broke into fresh sobs.

"Sssh! Hermione," Harry said urgently. "I'm fine. I'm just here to tell you everything is okay. I'm somewhere safe. I can't tell you where but.…" 

Hermione broke in with some urgency, "Oh, Harry, we've just found out, Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban."

Harry tried to look concerned. “Really? I’ll just have to be extra careful then, won’t I?” He quickly changed the subject. "Look Hermione, I can't stop. Just tell the others not to worry." 

"Not to worry? Honestly, Harry! How can you expect them not to worry, especially now that Mr. Malfoy is free? The first thing he’ll do is come after you. Come back to the Burrow. We’re all here now that Grimmauld Place is no longer being used. Is that where you are?" Hermione suddenly asked. "It is, isn't it Harry? Look, you must come back…."

Harry managed to get a word in edgewise. "Have you found out anything more about Horcruxes?"

"Hermione shook her head. "No, but I'll keep looking. It would be easier if you were here, though."

"You know I can't risk being near any of you. If I'm there, it will put you all in even more danger," Harry said shortly. "Please Hermione, for my sake, don't tell anyone where I am." Harry figured it would do no harm for Hermione to believe she had assumed correctly that he was at Grimmauld Place. "I have to go." 

Hermione looked stricken, then just as Harry was about to depart, she darted to the table and picked up the book she had been reading. "Here, take this. It might have something useful in it."

The Weasley kitchen disappeared as Harry's head, and the arm holding the book, were dragged back to Grimmauld Place. A few moments later, the kitchen at Grimmauld Place was once again empty as Harry, clutching his trunk, Flooed back to Lucius. 

Staggering slightly as he arrived back at the cottage, Lucius caught him before he could fall. Once again, Harry felt the odd trembling in his stomach at the man’s close proximity. Lucius released Harry. He looked relieved at the young wizard's return.

"You cut that close."

Harry glanced at his watch. He had forgotten to take note of the time whilst he had been gone, and realised with a start that there were only five minutes left before Lucius was due to block the Floo again.

"Did you achieve all you set out to do?" 

"Yes, I got my trunk, and I've let the Order know I'm okay."

"Without disclosing your whereabouts?" Lucius asked sharply.

Harry nodded. "They think I'm staying at the safe place I mentioned."

"No doubt it will take them all of half an hour to establish that you have misled them. Serves them right for letting you out of their sight in the first place."

Harry heaved his trunk up the stairs to his room. After folding his clothes into the chest of drawers, he reluctantly replaced the silk pyjamas with his own cotton ones, placed his "Flying with the Cannons" book on the bedside table, and then looked around him. 

He liked this room. It was filled with sunlight, and the scent of roses drifted in through the window that Tildy must have opened when she was tidying round. With his clothes folded away in the drawers, and his comb and deodorant by the little mirror, Harry could almost believe that the room was his. Funny that he had yet to sleep the night in the comfy bed, as his first sleep had been during the day, and last night he had spent by Lucius' side.

At the thought of Lucius, Harry frowned. He couldn't understand why he had suddenly become disturbed whenever he was with the man. A knock on the door disturbed Harry's reverie.

"Come in." It could only be Lucius. 

He came into Harry's room and glanced around. "Good, you've settled in. Hopefully you will be more comfortable with your own things around you. I brought this up for you." Lucius handed Harry the big book that Hermione had given to the young wizard.

Harry glanced at the title, and smiled. "'Hogwarts, a History'. She's always going on about stuff she's read in here," he told Lucius.

Lucius lifted an elegant eyebrow. "You mean you haven't already read it?" He glanced at the "Cannons" book. "But of course, you are very much the sportsman. I played as Seeker when I was at Hogwarts," he added nonchalantly.

"Really?" Harry asked, fascinated at the thought of Lucius playing Quidditch. "Were you any good?" Which was a stupid question, Harry thought, as soon as he had asked it. He couldn't imagine Lucius being mediocre at anything.

Lucius smiled. "I like to think I was. Put it this way—Slytherin won the cup every year I played." He looked slightly smug.

"I bet you were Head Boy as well?" 

"Of course. Can you think of anyone more suited to the position?"

Harry laughed and, much in the same way as he would have done with Ron, playfully slapped Lucius on the arm. Before Harry knew what had happened, Lucius had him pinned to the bed, holding Harry's arms in one hand above the young wizard's head. Lucius grinned at him. "You'll have to be quicker than that, Harry. What happened to the Seeker reflexes?" he teased. Then…Lucius went still.

Harry gazed up into the storm-grey eyes and felt something melt inside him. He became acutely aware of the weight of Lucius' body; Lucius' lips, poised above his own; the faint sigh of Lucius' breath on his face. Harry felt his own breath become short and opened his lips to allow in more air. The older wizard made a slight movement towards him, and for one dizzying moment, Harry thought that Lucius was actually going to kiss him. Then he suddenly realised that had Lucius done so, he wouldn't have stopped him. Lucius' eyes darted to Harry's slightly parted lips, then back to his eyes. For a few long seconds they gazed at each other, before Lucius suddenly released Harry as quickly as he had seized him, and jumped to his feet. 

“Yes, well, I’ll leave you to get sorted out,” he said abruptly, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Harry went into denial. Lucius hadn't been about to kiss him. How silly was that? Lucius had been married and had Draco for a son, for goodness sake. And he, Harry, couldn't possibly have felt those emotions. He couldn't have actually _wanted_ Lucius to kiss him. He wasn't into other men. At all. Ever. Harry slowly sat up, then shook his head. Stress, that was it, stress…making his imagination run riot.

When Harry appeared back downstairs, it was to find a late lunch waiting for him. Lucius was nowhere to be seen, for which Harry was grateful, given his irrational feelings of earlier. He had brought “Hogwarts a History” down with him, and took it out to the patio with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice that Tildy had pressed on him.

Harry settled down with his book and lunch, and for an hour he read peacefully, leafing at leisure through the large tome. Hermione had been right; there were some interesting facts about Hogwarts of which he had been completely unaware. It saddened Harry to think that Hogwarts might not even reopen that September, and that he had told everyone he would not return, even if it did.

Lucius dropped into a seat next to him. Harry glanced up, and noticed that the older man looked troubled. 

Without any preamble, Lucius said, “I think you should return to the Order.”

“What?” Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You will be safe with them.”

“I’m safe here with you.”

“You should be with your friends.”

“No! Lucius, I’m not going back. I need to be with you if we are going to defeat Voldemort and rescue Draco. The Order won’t let me come to you.”

“Maybe they are right. Perhaps you shouldn’t be working with me.”

“You didn’t think that before.” Harry accused. “What’s changed?”

Lucius finally looked at him. “I don’t want to put you in a…situation that perhaps you shouldn’t be in.” 

Harry returned Lucius' gaze, and felt the blood suffuse his face. So Lucius had felt it too. Felt what? His mind demanded. There was nothing to feel.

“I don’t know what you mean," Harry managed to splutter. "But I’m not leaving and that’s final.” No, he wasn't leaving, couldn't leave. He had a mission to accomplish, didn't he? One in which Lucius was to play a very necessary part. That, and only that, was the reason he wanted to stay so badly. Wasn't it?

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Lucius asked seriously.

Harry realised he was being asked another, more subtle question than the more obvious one Lucius had actually asked. Not daring, for the moment, to analyse quite what that question might be, Harry paused for only a moment before replying firmly, “Yes, quite sure.”

Lucius face relaxed, and Harry could almost convince himself that a look of relief passed briefly over the pale face of the man before him.

"I’d better make sure Tildy has the larder well-stocked then." Lucius smiled at Harry as he stood up, but Harry noticed that the serious look was back in the older wizard's eyes.

********

It was mid afternoon when the words jumped off the page and penetrated Harry's brain in a blinding flash of insight.

"…Rowena Ravenclaw, who was, of course, an expert in potion making, stated then that she…."

An expert in potion making. Harry jumped to his feet. "Lucius!" he called as he charged into the cottage, the book held open before him. "Lucius!" Harry blundered into Lucius at the door to the lounge. 

"Merlin! What is it," Lucius demanded.

"Rowena Ravenclaw! She was an expert in potions," Harry declared triumphantly. 

"Yes, and…?"

"If Dumbledore was right when he suggested that Voldemort was trying to get hold of something that belonged to each of the founders of Hogwarts, then a potion might well be what he chose to represent Ravenclaw."

Lucius still looked confused.

Harry sighed. "The potion in the bowl in the cave." he explained. "What if it was a Horcrux?"

"Then surely, whoever took the locket in the first place would have been the one to ingest the original potion, and thus that particular portion of the soul."

Harry's face fell, then it brightened again. "But what if wasn’t Voldemort who put the locket there originally? What if he got someone to do it for him? Then whoever _did_ put the locket there was the one who switched Voldemort’s locket for the fake one. That way he or she could still have poured the potion over it. Maybe they didn't know it was a Horcrux as well?"

Lucius looked thoughtful. "Did you say that there was a note in the locket that you and Dumbledore obtained?"

"Yes," said Harry excitedly. "I'll go and get it." He thrust the book at Lucius and raced up the stairs. But although he searched through his trunk three times, he was unable to locate the crucial bit of paper.


	7. The Locket

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Seven—The Locket**

That evening found Harry sitting in furious silence. Hunched in his chair, a frown creasing his brow, he glared into the fireplace. Lucius had gone out an hour earlier, and as soon as he had left, Harry had searched through his trunk once more. The scrap of paper had resolutely refused to turn up.

 

Now he was racking his brain, trying desperately to imagine where he might have left it. Finally, in sheer frustration, Harry took himself off for a bath.

He lay and soaked in the hot water. The bathtub in the cottage was an ancient Victorian enamelled one with lion’s claw feet, and the water reached up to Harry's chin. Steam had fogged the small bathroom and clung in droplets to Harry's hair, which was now limp in the heat.

He slid languorously beneath the water, the tension draining from his body. Surfacing, he shampooed his hair; then using the sponge he found on the side of the bath, he proceeded to lather his body with soap. Finally, he ducked back beneath the water, and rinsed himself off.

A large fluffy towel had appeared in the small room when he resurfaced, and he blushed to think that Tildy had obviously been in and left it for him. It was warm, and smelt of fresh air and sunshine. Harry rubbed himself briskly all over. Swathed in the towel, he opened the bathroom window to allow the steam to evaporate, and then made his way to his bedroom.

Shrugging on his pyjamas, Harry debated whether he should look through his trunk once more. Sighing, he decided he was just fooling himself if he really expected the note to turn up after searching so many times already.

It was still early, so Harry trailed back downstairs. The cottage was quiet without Lucius. Tildy appeared at his elbow a few minutes after he had settled himself onto the settee, and asked if he wanted anything. Harry shook his head, and then changed his mind. "Could I have a glass of pumpkin juice and some biscuits, please?"

Tildy disappeared, then almost instantaneously reappeared bearing a tray on which sat a glass of juice and a plate of obviously homemade biscuits. Harry made short work of them and was seated, comfortably surrounded by crumbs, when Lucius Apparated into the room. He looked grave.

“Any luck with Draco?” Harry asked immediately.

Lucius shook his head. “No, and I dare not be too insistent. I will have to bide my time. I have managed to find out that he is staying with Severus at his home.”

“You mean Professor Snape lives somewhere other that at Hogwarts?” Harry looked amazed. He had never pictured Snape having a home like other people; he’d just assumed the Potions master lived at Hogwarts all year round.

“Mmm, he has a small house of his own. Pettigrew is also with them,” Lucius added. He settled himself in a chair by the fire. Tildy brought him a glass of brandy, which Lucius sipped thoughtfully. After a while he spoke again.

“I think Voldemort may be keeping Draco away just to test me, to make sure that my loyalties are placed where they should be. I will have to be patient.”

Harry looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sure he will let you see Draco soon.”

They lapsed into silence again. Lucius seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, and Harry was unwilling to break the silence. Eventually Lucius shook himself, placed his empty glass on the hearth, and spoke.

“We are a miserable pair, are we not? Come on, Harry, can you play chess?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, but not very well.”

Lucius got up and fetched a small table, which he set between them. Then from a cupboard he retrieved a chessboard and a box of pieces.

“I have not played for some time, but I will give you a head start and remove one of my knights, a rook and a bishop. Let’s see if we can take our minds off things.”

They played three games of chess. Lucius may not have played for some time, but he was an extremely skilled player. Harry rarely saw his doom approaching, distracted by the violent behaviour of Lucius’ chessmen. Finally, Harry threw his hands up in defeat.

“Honestly, Lucius, I don’t think I could beat you even if you took _half_ your players off. Ron might have given you a run for your money; he is much better than me.”

“Would that be Ron Weasley you are referring to?” Lucius asked.

“Yes, he’s a really good chess player. Back in our first year at Hogwarts, he had to play with this giant set of chess pieces so we could get to the Philosopher’s Stone.” Harry stopped abruptly.

Lucius looked intrigued. “That sounds interesting—tell me more.”

So Harry told Lucius all about how he, Ron and Hermione had defeated Quirrell, AKA Voldemort, and saved the Philosopher’s stone. 

Lucius was amazed. “And this was when you were how old? Eleven?”

Harry nodded. It all seemed so long ago now. So much had happened since. It seemed to Harry that every year had brought a fresh set of challenges, and now this year was to be the greatest challenge of them all. He just hoped he was ready. Harry sighed.

Lucius put the chessboard away, but when he returned to sit down, he didn’t take his previous seat, but came and sat down next to Harry on the sofa.

“That was a big sigh, Harry.”

Harry nodded, gazing into the fire. “I was just thinking about the past.”

“Ah, the past. That can be dangerous territory, Harry. Believe me, I know. Is it anything in particular that is troubling you?”

Harry pushed his hand through his hair. “I’m simply hoping that when the time comes, I’ll be able to fulfil the prophecy.”

“You know what the prophecy said?” Lucius asked sharply, his eyes intent on Harry’s face. 

“Yes.”

“And…?”

Harry paused for a moment.

“Now is not the time for secrets, Harry. Tell me!” Lucius demanded.

“It says that neither Voldemort nor I can live whilst the other one does. It means I have to kill or be killed.”

Lucius let out a breath. “Gods, Harry, you poor child. You mean you’ve known this since the affair at the Ministry?”

“No, later. Dumbledore told me later. It was while she was with him that Madame Trelawney made the prediction in the first place.”

Lucius laughed unbelievingly. “Sybill Trelawney? But that woman couldn’t predict frostbite if she was stood in a blizzard!”

“No, it was definitely Madame Trelawney. Apparently she has some really famous seer as an ancestor.”

“I know she did, but I wasn’t aware that Sybill had inherited any of her talents.” Lucius seemed to be having a problem believing that Madam Trelawney could possibly have had anything to do with the prophecy. For several minutes he alternately laughed quietly, or shook his head. Finally he pulled himself together, and his face became serious. “Sorry, Harry. I’m not helping here, am I? I suppose you are worried about your ability to commit the final deed, and kill Voldemort?”

Harry nodded.

“It has to be you that does it?”

Harry nodded again, miserably. “I think so.” 

Harry suddenly found himself enveloped in an embrace, as Lucius pulled the young wizard into his arms. Harry tensed for a moment, then relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth and solid comfort of Lucius’ body. He laid his head against the older man’s shoulder, feeling Lucius’ hand in his hair as he did so. 

The two half lay, curled together, as the fire died down in the grate. Eventually however, Lucius made a move to sit up, and Harry reluctantly extricated himself from Lucius’ arms. Before he could pull away completely, Lucius had taken Harry by the shoulders. His grey eyes bored in Harry’s green ones.

“Harry, we _will_ get through this. I have every faith in you; if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here." 

Harry nodded, lost in Lucius’ eyes. "Thanks, Lucius. It helps to know that."

Lucius smiled. “Good boy. Now off to bed. And believe me, things _will_ be brighter in the morning.”

********

Harry lay on his bed in the darkness. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions. He had tried all day not to think about just what was going on between himself and Lucius. He didn't think, looking back on it, that he had mistaken the fact that Lucius had been about to kiss him. Or that Lucius had been obliquely referring to that incident in their later conversation.

What he wasn't quite sure about, was whether Lucius had been suggesting that there might be more between them if Harry stayed at the cottage. Had he really been asking Harry's tacit permission to further their relationship? Had Harry, by affirming his wish to stay, given Lucius that permission? 

Just how _did_ he feel about Lucius? Was he really attracted to the man? His body gave him the answer to that question almost immediately. His penis rose swiftly and surely, into a full erection and Harry's hand crept slowly down his body. His mind screamed at him; on no account was he to masturbate whilst thinking about Lucius Malfoy. Harry ignored the inner plaintive cries, pushed down his pyjama bottoms, and firmly gripped his cock. 

He thought about how it had felt, lying beneath Lucius' body on this very bed. In all honesty he had very much enjoyed the feel of being beneath the older man; Lucius’ weight pressing him into the quilt below; Lucius’ white blonde hair falling around them like a curtain.

His hand began to slowly stroke up and down his cock.

What would it have been like if Lucius had actually kissed him? If those lips had descended all the way and pressed themselves to Harry’s mouth? Would they have been firm, demanding…experienced?

His head swam at the thought, and his hand began to move more quickly.

Harry imagined Lucius slowly stripping him of his clothes, then being naked, pressed against the pale skin that he knew covered Lucius' solid body.

“Ohhh”, Harry gasped aloud, then quickly tried to muffle the moans that the increased rhythm of his stroking was inciting. He had always been rather vocal when masturbating, a somewhat inconvenient fact, bearing in mind he spent the greater part of the year in close proximity to four other boys. The showers had become a favourite place of his in recent years.

_Lucius' mouth and tongue on his nipples, hot and wet._

The fingers of his other hand groped beneath his pyjama jacket, located a nipple, then tweaked and pinched, pulling firmly at the tender nub.

_Lucius' hand on his cock, stroking and stimulating._

Harry increased the speed and tightness of his grip. He could feel his orgasm approaching. 

_Lucius fucking him._

With a cry, he came, cutting off the end of the shout by turning his head and pushing his face into his pillow.

********

The following morning, Harry emerged for breakfast looking rather sheepish. If Lucius noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Deciding to put the matter of the locket to one side for the time being, they elected to spend the day looking for any reference to the Hufflepuff Cup. Since Voldemort had retrieved it from Hepzibah Smith, it seemed to have disappeared from view. Lucius couldn't recall having seen anything that fitted its description during the times he had spent at Voldemort's headquarters.

By the end of the day they were tired, frustrated, and dispirited. Finally, Harry slammed shut the book he had been scouring, and laid his head on his arms. Lucius laid a gentle hand on his head, then stood and came round behind him. Harry sighed as Lucius began to knead his aching shoulders, undoing the knots with his strong fingers. 

"Don't worry Harry, something will turn up. I have to go to another meeting this evening. I will see what I can find out there."

Harry sat up, and screwed round in his seat to face Lucius. "You're going out? You never told me," he accused.

"I'm telling you now, Harry."

Harry let out a breath. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just that I worry. Will you ask Voldemort about Draco?" Harry added.

"I will try to find an appropriate moment to mention the matter. It would not do to seem to care _too_ much, however. The Dark Lord is adept at exploiting a person's weaknesses. Affection of any sort is classified as such."

"Poor Draco, he must be so scared."

Lucius looked at Harry. "You amaze me, Mr. Potter. I am fully aware of the rivalry and animosity between you and my son, yet you still find it in your heart to be concerned for him."

Harry looked down and said quietly, "You wouldn't find it at all strange if you had seen Draco as I saw him. Struggling with fear, terrified that if he didn't kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill him and his family. I know what it's like to lose someone you love, someone who loves you." He fell silent.

"Your godfather, Sirius Black?" Lucius asked.

"And my parents. I never knew them, but I know they loved me."

"I'm sure they did. You are very easy to love, Harry."

Before Harry had time to say anything, Lucius had turned away. "I must go and get ready." He strode from the room, leaving Harry more confused than ever.

They ate a brief supper, seated at the dining table. The weather had turned squally, and rain skittered at the windows. They ate in silence, each with a head full of thoughts. At last Lucius got up to go.

"Take care, Harry. You needn't wait up. I should be safe from Voldemort's wrath this time." He gave Harry a brief smile, then left.

********

His pocket. It came to Harry like a knife in the dark. As sometimes happens when you stop trying to find the answer to something, the answer simply comes to you. The note was in his damn pocket!

Harry raced upstairs to his bedroom. Dragging a pair of jeans from the chest of drawers, he began frantically searching the pockets. His questing fingers met a scrunched up bit of paper, and he withdrew it carefully.

It was the note from the locket. A huge grin spread over Harry’s face, and he punched the air in triumph.


	8. From Frying Pan to Fire

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Eight—From Frying Pan to Fire**

Clutching the note, Harry went back downstairs. Seated once more on the sofa, he racked his brains, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle. If the person who had written the note was the same one whom Lord Voldemort had sent to place the locket in the cave in the first place, then he had to have been a Death Eater. A trusted one at that, for Voldemort to have given him such an important task. But it was someone who had changed his mind and questioned if what he was doing was right, someone who had got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out.

These last words echoed in Harry’s brain as if spoken by somebody else. He could almost picture someone saying them. At Grimmauld Place. Whilst looking at the Black Family Tapestry. Sirius, talking about his brother, Regulus. Regulus Alphard Black. Harry glanced at the note in his hand in disbelief. R.A.B., Regulus Alphard Black. It had to be. Along with the memory of Sirius came other flashbacks: of Kreacher pilfering things they tried to throw away; of a large golden locket that no one could open; of a large golden locket that Regulus had stolen from Lord Voldemort and hidden at Grimmauld Place.

Harry sprang to his feet and began pacing the room. He was so sure he was right. Everything fitted, from Regulus being a Death Eater who saw the error of his ways, to the initials on the note. Regulus had obviously been ordered by Voldemort to place the locket and the potion in the cave, perhaps one Horcrux for each of the children Tom Riddle had taken there. Regulus, already having doubts about his loyalty to Voldemort, had switched the lockets, either not realising, or not having been told, that the potion contained another portion of the man’s soul. He had then taken the locket to his home and hidden it before returning to Voldemort, and later being killed.

Regulus must have been very young, Harry realised. He must also have been very brave to do what he did. He gazed at the note again, trying to picture the man who had written it. A younger version of Sirius perhaps. Harry was saddened at the thought of yet another life taken by Voldemort.

The fireplace beckoned. Had Lucius still blocked it? There was only one way to find out. Harry stepped into the grate, took a pinch of Floo powder, and gave his destination. Casting the powder into the fire, Harry braced himself for Lucius’ voice to command him out of the fireplace. Instead he was whirled away. His stomach lurched, and Harry desperately glued his elbows to his sides. He felt himself slowing and prepared to stop, then staggered slightly as he arrived once more in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. He felt himself seized and pulled from the fireplace.

Remus Lupin dragged Harry into his arms, and Harry’s face was crushed against the old tweed jacket. At last Remus released him.

“Oh, Harry, I’m so glad you’re here.”

He looked his usual tired self but there was a lighter look in his eyes, and Harry guessed that Tonks had something to do with the fact that Remus no longer looked so shabby.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Harry asked ungraciously, then realised with a pang of guilt just how hostile he sounded. “I’m sorry,” he added, with an attempt at reconciliation, “it’s just that I was…surprised to find you here. You gave me a bit of a jump.” He gave a rueful grin. 

Remus’ face, which had clouded over at Harry’s first words, now cleared and he too smiled. “Sorry, Harry, I didn’t think. And in answer to your question, waiting, and hoping, that you would turn up, of course.”

“Why? I told Hermione not to tell anyone where I was. I also told her it was my _choice_ not to be with everyone.”

Remus pulled Harry to a seat at the big table, and gestured to him to sit down. “Harry, you can’t possibly believe that the Order would want you off on your own somewhere. You should be at the Burrow with everyone else, where you will be safe.”

“I’m safe where I am,” Harry said shortly. He really did not need the complication of Remus Lupin trying to get him to go back to the Burrow. And he wouldn’t put it past Remus to force him. The man might look soft, but Harry knew that when push came to shove, Lupin was a force to be reckoned with. He also didn't like to think what would happen if he didn’t get back to the cottage before Lucius returned.

“Just where have you been Harry? It was as if you had disappeared off the face of the Earth. We tried locator spells, everything, but there was no trace of you.”

“I told you, I’m somewhere safe, and I want to stay there. If the Order can’t find me, then neither can Voldemort.”

“But what about your friends? What about the work on the Horcruxes?”

“Ron and Hermione will be much safer without me, and we’re doing fine with the research.”

“We?” Remus asked sharply. “Who’s ‘we’?”

Harry realised he had made a blunder. He thought quickly. “Me, Ron and Hermione of course.”

Remus looked at him, eyes narrowed. “What are you up to Harry? Wherever you are, it took a very powerful wizard to place such wards and protections around the place to make it untraceable. _You_ , I know, are not capable of doing so yourself. So whom are you with Harry?”

“No one, I’m on my own. Now leave me alone, Remus. I really don’t have to answer all your questions.”

But Remus’ face had taken on a determined look. “This is ludicrous, Harry, you are putting yourself and everyone else in jeopardy.” He paused, then added, “Hermione told us what the rest of the Prophecy said, Harry. It has to be you who defeats Voldemort. If you get yourself killed, what is going to happen then?” 

Harry sneered, “Well, thanks for your concern, Remus. I’m glad to know that all I am to you is a means to an end.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Remus snapped. “That’s not all you are, and you know it.”

“Do I?” Harry blazed. “Let’s face it, Remus, that’s all I’ve ever been to anyone. The Boy Who Lived, the boy who is to be the Saviour of the Wizarding World. You said yourself I would be letting everyone down if I got myself killed. You didn't say that you would be sorry for my death, but that you would sorry for yourselves, with no-one to bail you all out.”

Remus looked stunned, but angry. “How can you say that, Harry? All we have every done is support you and care for you.” He reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Harry’s arm. “ _I_ care about you, Harry, as a person, not just as a potential saviour.”

Harry looked down at the hand on his arm, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Remus. Sometimes I feel so very trapped by all this. But now I’ve made my own plans. I’m taking charge, and I feel more in control. Don’t ask me to go back with you. I’m not going.”

Remus shook his head sadly. “I have no choice, Harry. I can’t just let you go off on your own to who-knows-where, with who-knows-who. Yes,” he added, catching sight of Harry’s face, “I know you are lying when you say you are alone. Someone had to have set up those wards of protection and concealment, and if you won’t tell me who it is, it probably means you know the Order won’t approve. And that raises too many questions about who this person is. We can’t allow you to put yourself in danger. Call those motives selfish if you must, but that’s the way things are.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said quietly.

It was the last thing Remus Lupin expected and he was therefore totally unprepared when Harry raised his wand and said, “ _Petrificus Totalus_."

Harry gazed sadly down at his old teacher, who now lay rigid on the kitchen floor. Seizing the man under his arms, Harry dragged him out into the corridor beyond the kitchen. He couldn’t afford for Remus to overhear his destination when he returned to Lucius.

With Remus stashed, Harry returned to the real purpose of his visit. Gingerly, he once again approached Kreacher’s lair under the boiler. Not particularly wanting to touch the filthy rags, he picked up a knife from one of the drawers, and using this to turn over the bits of cloth, Harry began to search through the refuse.

He found the locket after only two minutes. There it was, a heavy golden locket, inscribed with an ornate “S”: Salazar Slytherin’s locket; Voldemort’s Horcrux. Harry hefted it triumphantly. “Yes!” Another one down and, if Harry was correct, that only left Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup. He slipped the locket carefully into his pocket, and went back to the fireplace. He glanced ruefully in the direction of the passage where Remus lay. Harry knew it wouldn’t be long before someone came to either check up on Remus or relieve him, but nevertheless he felt bad, and just hoped that Remus would be able to forgive him when all this was over. It said a lot for Harry’s state of mind that he was actually thinking that there might be a future.

 

Harry returned to the fireplace, and Flooed back to the cottage.

********

He stepped straight into Lucius’ fury. “Where the hell have you been?” Lucius blazed. Back was the Death Eater of old. “I came home to find your bed empty, no note.”

Harry had a sudden, vivid mental picture of Molly Weasley using almost exactly the same words all those years before, and a smile crept involuntarily onto his face.

Lucius slapped him, hard. Harry’s hand flew to his cheek, his eyes shocked and hurt; then he turned on his heel and fled from the room. Lucius was after him in a flash. Harry tore up the stairs but stumbled on the last step, and Lucius caught him on the landing.

Harry felt the breath knocked from his body as Lucius hurled him against a wall. Then the world went still, and narrowed to a single point of focus as Lucius’ lips crushed down onto his: demanding and punishing, bruising Harry’s own against his teeth; Lucius’ hands were on his shoulders, forcing Harry back against the wall. For a few minutes Harry remained passive beneath the onslaught, but as the anger drained from Lucius’ body, and the kisses became deeper and more tender, Harry reached his arms around the older man, and his lips began to respond, his tongue shyly asking for entrance to Lucius’ mouth. 

Harry felt his body melt against the older wizard, moulding itself to Lucius’ form as the hands on his shoulders slipped around him. One hand went to slide beneath Harry’s hair, cupping the back of his head. The other slid down the young wizard’s back, and came to rest just above Harry’s buttocks. Harry moaned as the lower hand pulled Harry’s hips forward, and his erection collided with Lucius’ thigh. 

Lucius drew back, and looked into Harry’s eyes. “I want to take you to bed with me Harry, will you come?”

Harry nodded, hoping that Lucius could read the desire in his eyes. The older man took Harry’s hand, and led him into the bedroom. They lay on the bed for several minutes, kissing, until Lucius released Harry.

“Undress for me?” he asked the young wizard.

Harry climbed nervously off the bed, and stood facing Lucius. Slowly he began to remove each item of his clothing, his eyes never leaving Lucius’ face. When he was completely naked except for his boxers, Harry paused. 

Lucius grinned. “You are not going to be needing those, take them off.”

Harry did as he was told. Shyly he removed the shorts, revealing as he did so, his erection. Lucius licked his lips, and feasted his eyes on the naked boy before him.

“I think you need a hand, Harry,” he teased. Getting off the bed, he pulled Harry back into his arms and kissed him again. Harry found that the feeling of being naked against Lucius’ clothed body was a deeply erotic one. Lucius’ lips were hot on his, a quick-sliver tongue invading the depths of his mouth. Then Lucius turned Harry around, and pulled him so that his back was now pressed against Lucius’ solid chest. He put one arm around Harry, and then he ducked his head until his lips were at Harry’s ear. 

“Look at yourself Harry.”

Harry dropped his eyes to his erection, but Lucius laughed softly, and, taking Harry’s chin in his long fingers, he directed Harry’s gaze upwards. Then Harry noticed the full-length cheval mirror in the corner of the room. He and Lucius were framed in it perfectly and Harry reeled at the image before him: his own naked, lightly tanned body, burnished gold by the candlelight; his penis erect, and jutting from its nest of dark curls; a band of black across his chest that was Lucius’ arm holding him. The rest of Lucius was nearly invisible, his habitual black clothing blending with the shadows of the room. Only his face was clear, blonde hair around it, like a halo

Harry’s eyes met Lucius’ in the mirror, and then he watched in fascination as Lucius’ other hand snaked around him, drifted over his stomach, and grasped his cock. Harry moaned, and dropped his head back onto Lucius’ shoulder, closing his eyes as he did so.

“No.” Lucius voice, soft and seductive. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch.”

Harry forced his eyes open, and focused on the mirror.

Lucius began to slowly slide his hand up and down Harry’s penis, his thumb sweeping the sensitive tip at every stroke. Harry’s knees began to buckle, and soon it was only Lucius’ strength that was keeping him upright. Lucius began to move more swiftly, and now Harry began to thrust into the caressing hand, his hips jumping forward to meet Lucius’ each and every plunge, driven by the need within his body.

Harry gasped as he watched himself being masturbated by the man behind him; he found it an intensely erotic experience, seeing and feeling at the same time. Lucius dropped his mouth to Harry’s shoulder, keeping his grey eyes fixed on the mirror. Then the young wizard felt pain as Lucius bit into his flesh. As if this was a catalyst, Harry came explosively into Lucius’ waiting hand, crying out his release into the side of Lucius' neck.

For a while Harry just sagged against Lucius’ body, until finally he was able to take the weight back onto his trembling legs. Feeling a fizzing sensation on the skin around his groin and stomach, he glanced down. All traces of his emission had disappeared. Lucius had followed the direction of Harry’s eyes in the reflection and now he smiled at Harry in the mirror.

“Useful little spell, that. I must teach it to you. I have a feeling you are going to need it!”

Harry turned in Lucius’ arms, and held up his face for another kiss. Lucius was happy to oblige. Cradling the boy’s head in his hands, Lucius kissed Harry deeply, using all his expertise to pleasure the mouth so willingly offered to him. Harry revelled in the feeling, and soon felt his penis growing erect once more. Lucius had obviously also noticed. He drew away from Harry, his eyes like silver flames. 

“Harry, I want to fuck you now, but I need you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

Harry’s mind was relieved that he had been offered the option of turning away and going back to his own room. But his body denied that there was any choice at all, and simply arched against Lucius.

“I need you to tell me what you want, Harry,” Lucius insisted

Harry’s tongue was thick in his mouth and his lips felt dry as he struggled to speak.

“I…yes…sure, I’m…yes, I’m sure. Oh yes, Lucius, I’m sure. Please.”

Without further ado, Lucius swept Harry into his arms and carried him to the bed. He placed the young wizard in the middle of it, and then proceeded to remove his own clothing. Harry enjoyed the sight of Lucius’ body slowly being revealed, and he trembled with anticipation as Lucius’ erection sprang free as the older man removed his boxers.

Lucius moved to join Harry on the bed, drawing the boy close to him. Harry pressed himself against the warmth of the other man. He couldn’t believe how quickly the snowball of his emotions had turned into an avalanche of desire for the man by his side, one that nearly drowned Harry in its intensity and depth. From not even being aware that he could feel anything sexual for another man, Harry now wanted Lucius with every fibre of his being. Yet…he was afraid. Totally naïve about how two men had sex, Harry worried that there might be pain, that he might prove to be a disappointment to Lucius. He struggled to say something, but before his mind was able to put together a coherent sentence, Lucius spoke.

“I take it you have never had sex with another man before?”

The older wizard seemed to have read Harry’s mind. “I…never, not with…a man, or anyone,” he managed to say.

Lucius hugged him tightly. “There is no need to be afraid. I will talk you through everything, and I will be as gentle as I can be. All right?”

Harry nodded. Trying to summon up some of the famed Gryffindor courage, he managed to stutter, “Y…yes, I’ll be fine, as long as you…tell me what to do.”

In reply, Lucius rolled Harry onto his front. Then he reached for a pillow and pushed it under Harry’s stomach.

“This will make things more comfortable for you, and for me,” he explained.

Harry nodded mutely, pressing his burning cheek into the pillow beneath his head. Everything felt so strange, and now all he could do was focus his mind on his sense of hearing and, more importantly, his sense of touch.

Lucius ran his hands slowly down Harry’s back, from the nape of his neck, to the dip just above Harry’s buttocks. His touch was feather-soft, and Harry felt the anxiety slowly draining from his body. When Lucius' lips pressed to his shoulder, then began to mirror the course of the hands, the final threads of tension were snapped, and Harry relaxed completely onto the covers beneath him, feeling almost boneless.

Lucius’ voice was once again at his ear. “I’m going to use a lubrication spell on you, Harry. I have to use my fingers to stretch the entrance to your body. That will allow me to penetrate you when you are relaxed enough. Are you all right?”

Harry’s mind was racing but he whispered an affirmative to Lucius’ question.

“You can stop me any time you want, Harry. Just remember that. All right, I’m going to do the spell now.”

Harry jumped as a warm, slick sensation spread itself along the crack between his buttocks, and into his body. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but it was a harbinger of other things that Harry still feared, and he trembled.

“I’m going to insert my fingers now, Harry. One at a time, to let you get used to the sensation. I won’t lie to you, Harry, you may experience a little pain or discomfort. It will pass, and I will be gentle, I promise. Just try to relax.”

Fingers trailed, shadow-soft, down Harry’s back again, going further down now, to caress the round globes of his bottom. At the same time, Harry felt the invasion between those same cheeks, of Lucius’ finger. It pressed against him, and Harry had to fight desperately to control the urge to clench his muscles against the intrusion; then Lucius succeeded in inserting the first digit into Harry’s body.

He allowed Harry to get use to the sensation, before gently moving the finger in and out of him. Harry, finding that there was little or no pain, relaxed enough to allow Lucius to add another finger. This time there was more discomfort. But then Lucius touched something inside Harry that caused the young wizard to nearly jump off the bed. Incredible feelings chased through his virgin body, and a moan of desire escaped through his tender lips.

Harry pushed back onto the invading fingers, desperate for a repeat of the thrill that had coursed through him. Lucius obliged by once again sweeping over that sweet spot as he thrust his two fingers more firmly in the tight warmth of the boy before him. Now Harry was arching to meet the delving fingers, trying to get them to push harder into him, needing more stimulation. 

Lucius added a third digit, and the pain returned to Harry’s entrance. He squirmed uncontrollably until Lucius’ hand pressed firmly into the small of his back, stilling the motion.

“Gently, Harry. Breathe deeply; keep relaxed.” The soothing voice calmed Harry, and when a kiss was pressed to his shoulder, he managed to still the trembling of his body. His mind rationalised the intrusion as a means to an end. An end he very much desired, although Harry was scared that if Lucius’ three fingers could cause pain, then how would Lucius’ cock feel?

Slowly his body adjusted to the feel of the three fingers inside him, the muscular ring that had guarded his virginity had been well and truly breached, and now began once more to relax. Lucius twisted his fingers inside Harry, pressing against that place in Harry’s body. The young wizard arched into the touch, crying out his desire as Lucius now began to thrust his fingers in and out of Harry, pushing them apart to further stretch the opening. The pain was gradually replaced by a wonderful feeling that crept to the very limits of Harry’s body.

Lucius withdrew his fingers and his hands pushed Harry’s legs wider; then he moved between the Seeker’s firm thighs. Harry felt the change of position and realised that Lucius was about to fuck him.

“Harry? I’m going to enter you now. Remember, there may be some pain, but it will pass, I promise. Just hold on, don’t panic. I may feel big, but your body can take it, trust me.”

The hard, blunt head of Lucius’ cock was presented to Harry’s entrance, and with an urge of his hips, Lucius pushed past the ring of muscle and lodged the tip of his prick in Harry’s body. Harry panted in an effort to remain calm and relaxed. Lucius felt a lot larger than the fingers. At the next thrust, Lucius brushed Harry’s sweet spot, and he took advantage of the ecstasy that suffused Harry's body to push in further. He paused for a moment, leaning down over Harry’s back, his lips at Harry’s ear.

“Oh, Merlin, Harry,” he moaned, “this is so hard. You’re so wonderfully tight; all I want to do is thrust into you hard, and screw you through the bed. But I can’t. It would be very painful for you, so I have to take this slowly.” 

Harry heard Lucius take several shuddering breaths as he calmed himself, then he pressed once more into Harry’s body, taking care not to push too hard or too far.

There was pain. Harry couldn’t deny that, but it was a pain tempered with pleasure. With a final thrust, Lucius lodged himself completely in that tight, warm channel. And now he paused again, giving Harry’s body time to adjust to the unfamiliar feeling of being stretched and filled. His lips found the flesh of the young wizard’s shoulder and he drew it into his mouth, his teeth nipping down.

Lucius pulled out of Harry, then thrust gently back in. Harry moaned in a mixture of pain and desire. Everything felt so right, and as the pain once more faded, so, so good. As Lucius set up a slow, steady rhythm of thrust and withdrawal, the pain disappeared altogether, leaving only pleasure. Each inward plunge of Lucius’ prick, brushed over the sweet spot and soon Harry was thrusting back to meet each drive. His mouth opened constantly to allow out the mixture of cries and moans that Lucius was drawing forth by his unerring accuracy. His fingers dug into the pillow beneath his head, longing to be clasping Lucius’ body.

With a sudden movement, Lucius withdrew completely from Harry, then spun the boy over onto his back. Pushing Harry’s knees up and apart, his gaze burned down into Harry eyes.

“I want to watch your face as you come,” he growled.

Positioning himself once more between Harry’s thighs, Lucius placed his cock at the now relaxed entrance. Watching Harry’s face intently, Lucius pushed home with one swift, sure movement. Harry wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ drag his eyes away from that intent silver gaze. He could feel his orgasm building in his body, nearing with each thrust.

“Wrap your legs around my back,” Lucius ordered hoarsely. Harry hastened to comply, taking the order as tacit permission to also wrap his arms around Lucius.

Now Lucius rode Harry in earnest. The room was full of the sounds of gasping breath and slapping flesh. Both men were dripping in sweat before Lucius finally reached down and grasped Harry’s prick. Harry, who had been on the verge of coming, could take no more. With a huge cry he came, a cry that was echoed a moment later by Lucius, as he too reached his climax. 

They fell together, sweat-slicked bodies, a tangle of limbs, neither one of them knowing or caring where their own body ended, and that of their lover began.


	9. The Visitor

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Nine—The Visitor**

Harry awoke the following morning with a smile on his face. His body ached all over, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling; it merely served to remind him of the joys he had experienced the night before. Sensing movement, he opened his eyes to find Lucius propped up on one elbow by his side.

“Finally,” Lucius said. “Do you realise that certain parts of your anatomy have been awake for the past ten minutes? And proving a sore temptation, I might add.”

Harry glanced down his body to where his prick was indeed wide-awake and wishing everyone a "good morning". He grinned.

“I suppose you expect me to do something about it?” Lucius asked, the smile on his face suggesting that he would like nothing better.

Harry yawned and stretched. “Nah, if you leave him alone, he’ll go away eventually.” He shot a sideways glance at Lucius, an impish look on his face.

“What a frightful waste that would be,” Lucius commented, beginning to slither down Harry’s body.

Harry’s eyes closed as Lucius’ mouth sank over his erection.

********

An hour later found them still in bed, but now Lucius was swathed in his dressing gown, his hair still damp from a shower. Tildy had brought up a tray laden with breakfast. When the house elf had knocked at the door, Harry had hidden under the covers, but Lucius had lazily thrown the sheets off him just before Tildy had turned to go. She had tittered, a hand over her mouth, and scurried from the room.

“There are two lots of breakfast here; she knows you spent the night with me,” Lucius replied to Harry’s squeaks of protest. “Although, on reflection, and bearing in mind your appetite,” Lucius went on, examining the tray more closely, “I think I may just have to ask her where _my_ breakfast is.” 

They ate in peaceful contentment, Lucius disappearing behind a copy of the Prophet that Tildy had delivered with breakfast. Harry had just finished the last of three sausages when a sudden thought came into his head. He jumped from the bed and began rummaging through his clothes on the floor. Lucius came out from behind his paper to enjoy the rather entrancing sight of Harry’s naked arse waving about in the air. When Harry turned back to the bed he was clutching something in his hand.

“I forgot to show this to you last night.” He scrambled back onto the bed, and reached to hang the locket around Lucius’ neck.

Lucius sat bolt upright, the Prophet sliding unnoticed to the floor. His eyes went wide as he examined the piece of jewellery.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked.

Harry nodded, a delighted grin on his face.

"Where the hell did you get it? And why didn't you give it to me last night?”

"I rather thought I had," Harry replied saucily. Giggling, he scurried out of reach to the bottom of the bed. "Okay, okay," he said quickly as Lucius made signs of coming after him. "I finally found the note that was in the locket. It was in the pocket of my jeans. I suddenly remembered Sirius saying something about his brother and it all kind of came together."

Harry reached once more into his clothes and rooted for the note. He handed it to Lucius.

"Regulus," Lucius said with a sigh. "Well, who would have thought? Poor boy, he really didn't know what he was getting into. Of course," Lucius went on reflectively, "he was quite a favourite of the Dark Lord's at one time. But where did you find the locket?"

"It was at this secret place I told you about."

"Grimmauld Place?" Lucius asked.

Harry looked shocked. "How did you know about Grimmauld Place?"

"Use your brains, Harry," Lucius said. "My family and the Black family have been linked for years. Of course I know about Grimmauld Place. I have been to any number of family occasions there."

********

Finally dressed and downstairs, they pored over the locket. Lucius tried various methods to determine if the Horcrux still contained the portion of soul, or if it had been destroyed as Regulus had suggested it would be. Finally he sat back, a look of frustration on his face.

"I can't tell." He rubbed his eyes and then massaged his temples briefly. "But I know someone who may be able to help us. Will you trust me to bring an old friend in on this, Harry?"

"He's not a Death Eater, is he?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Lucius laughed. "Certainly not! If you are agreeable, I will try to contact him to see if he is able to help."

Harry still looked dubious, but eventually he nodded. "Okay, if you're sure he can be trusted."

"He is one of my oldest and dearest friends and I would trust him with my life. And yours," Lucius added.

Feeling that nothing more could be achieved with the locket, they determined to set about the task, once again, of trying to locate where Voldemort might have hidden the Hufflepuff Cup. Whilst Lucius went off to contact his friend, Harry racked his brains, trying to remember all the memories he had seen in the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office. He was sure that the answer lay somewhere in his jumbled recollection of the images. If only he could have a sudden flash of insight as he’d had with the locket.

He got to his feet and trailed out into the garden. The sky had cleared again today; the sun shone in a limpid blue firmament, and a blackbird sang in the apple tree by the stream. Harry made his way to the water's edge and sat down on the grass. The bird had stopped singing as he approached, but now it started up again, the sound liquid and beautiful. 

The night before, safe in Lucius' arms, the darkness had faded and receded. Now it was back in full force. Harry dipped a hand into the water, letting it bubble and pulse around his fingers. Once again things were threatening to overwhelm him. Now that there was only one Horcrux left, the final confrontation with Voldemort was that bit closer. In one way, Harry hoped that it would take some time to locate the Cup. That way, he would have more time to prepare. Although, if he was honest with himself, Harry realised that there would never be enough time for him to prepare to kill another man, no matter how much Voldemort deserved to die.

The sunlight twinkled on the water, carefree and oblivious to Harry's suffering.

Draco. Lucius was hiding it well, but Harry could tell that his lover was worried about his son, increasingly concerned about Voldemort's reluctance to allow him to see the boy.

And there was another thing. Lucius. How could he tell his friends about his relationship with a man they all loathed and feared? His relationship with a man, full stop? He had never given anyone any reason to suspect he was gay; hell, he hadn't even known himself. Now, every time he was near Lucius, all he wanted to do was to be in the older man's arms, being held tight and safe. 

The tears began to fall from Harry's eyes, soft, and at first unnoticed, dripping into the stream, little drops of salt water.

His hand had gone numb in the cold water and he withdrew it. It was only when a tear splashed onto the back of his hand, that Harry realised he was crying. He stared at the droplet, seeing a minute reflection of the world around him mirrored in the convex surface of the tear. He was close to the edge. And he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

Lucius had come silently down the garden; now he pulled Harry to his feet, and into his arms. Feeling the warmth and strength of Lucius, Harry finally gave in and sobbed. He clung to the older man, crying as if his heart would break. Eventually, Lucius lifted him up and carried Harry into the house. He took the crying boy upstairs to the bedroom, settled himself on the bed, and pulled Harry securely against his chest. Then he simply sat and let Harry weep.

It was some time before Harry's sobs began to decrease in intensity. Lucius reached for a handkerchief from the bedside table and mopped Harry's eyes and nose with it. Then he conjured up a glass of water, and made Harry drink it. When he seemed to have judged that Harry was calm enough, Lucius spoke.

"Is this anything I can help you with?"

Harry crunched closer into Lucius’ body, shaking his head. Then he changed his mind, and began to blurt out all the things he was worried about, including his relationship with Lucius.

Lucius listened without comment until Harry paused for breath.

"Firstly, Voldemort deserves to die. He doesn't deserve your pity. I know it will be hard for you, Harry, but I will be beside you every step of the way. Your friends will also be there for you. You won't be alone, Harry. Remember that." He paused, and then went on. "As for your relationship with me…. Harry, maybe I was wrong to rush you into this…" Lucius paused again, and then pushed on before Harry had time to get the wrong idea. "I don't regret sleeping with you, just the timing. You have enough on your plate to cope with without the added pressure of a relationship you are unprepared for." Before he could go on, Harry broke in.

"I need you, Lucius. Don't back away from me now. I might not have thought about having a relationship with you, but that doesn't mean I don't want one. You are the one bright thing in all of this. When I'm here, in your arms, things don't seem so bad. You make me feel safe." Harry snuggled closer to the broad chest, then added quietly, "I just can't see why you would want someone like me. I mean I’m not sophisticated, or experienced…or anything.” He trailed off, his eyes cast down.

Lucius pushed Harry away from him, a look of amazement on his face. "Why I would want someone like you? Why on earth _wouldn't_ I want someone like you? You are an amazing person, Harry, think of everything you have achieved! You are brave and steadfast, true to your friends. Your innocence is no detriment to you; besides, I have sophistication and experience enough for both of us!” He smiled at the young man beside him, and then added with a grin, “And not to put to fine a point on it, you have a body to die for!" 

Harry managed a watery smile. "Really?”

"Really. Now listen to me Harry Potter, as long as you want me, I will be here for you. No matter what your friends think, I will stand by your side. I care a great deal for you, Harry, and I wouldn't hurt you for the world. You will just have to believe me on this." 

Harry nestled back into Lucius' arms. The world had gone bright again. He was just beginning to truly relax, when Lucius let out a gasp of pain and clutched at his forearm.

"Voldemort! I'm being summoned," Lucius hissed through gritted teeth. "I have to go." He got off the bed and went to the door, then turned back to Harry. "Take care, don’t go anywhere. I _will_ be back." He gave Harry one last lingering look, then went out.

Harry sat, stunned, on the bed. It had happened so fast, one minute he was safe in Lucius' arms, the next, the man he cared so deeply for had been snatched away.

********

The rest of the day dragged by. Harry moved from one room to another, simply sitting, staring, and waiting. He couldn't be bothered to read any of the books or journals; nothing mattered now except the safe return of Lucius. He turned away Tildy when she tried to get him to eat, but finally, as midnight neared, he trailed desultorily into the kitchen. The little house-elf was absent, and Harry set about foraging for food. In the pantry he found an unexpected box of cornflakes and his stomach gave a rumble of anticipation. He tipped a large quantity into a bowl, then added milk and a sprinkle of sugar.

He was happily tucking into his midnight feast when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Lucius, you're ba—" Harry had turned as he spoke, only to find that the hand did not belong to Lucius. He shot to his feet, but the man had trapped him between the table and his body before Harry had time to escape. 

He was taller than Lucius, well built with broad shoulders. Thick, straight black hair tumbled to just below his jaw line. His eyes, set in a tanned face, were like burning ice.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Harry Potter."

The voice was as aristocratic as Lucius' own, but slightly deeper, and as soft as honey. He smiled, revealing sharp white teeth, and leaned down towards Harry. For a hideous moment, Harry actually thought the man was going to bite him. Then following swiftly on the heels of panic and fear, came anger. 

"Who are you?" Harry blazed. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

The man laughed. "Bravo, Mr. Potter. All the courage I had been led to expect. But you know, you have answered one of those questions by the asking of one of the others."

Harry frowned. "What are you talking about?" The proximity of the man was making him uncomfortable, but he did not feel overtly threatened. 

"Why simply, that to have got in, I’d have to be someone who is very close to Lucius. Thus your question as to _who_ I am has already been answered. I am a friend of Lucius’. Now, I wonder just what _you_ are?" The man said the last sentence lazily, but his eyes held a gleam of intense speculation, and a sly smile creased the corner of his mouth.

Harry blushed under the intense scrutiny. "Well," he managed, "if you are a friend of Lucius', would you mind moving away from me?"

"Ah, but that would deny me the pleasure of being close to your…rather lovely young body."

"Stop teasing him, Raif."

Relief flew through Harry's body, and he had to grasp the edge of the table behind him to stop himself from falling. Lucius had entered the kitchen quietly.

The dark man turned and grinned at Lucius, then threw his arms around the blonde. The two men clung together in a way that suggested they had shared more than friendship in the past, and Harry felt a jolt of pure jealousy course through his body as he noticed the way Lucius’ head dropped onto the other man’s shoulder. Finally they drew apart. Turning to Harry, Lucius pulled him into his arms. The deep kiss that followed surprised Harry; Lucius was obviously not worried about displaying his feelings for Harry in front of his old friend. 

Pulling away, Lucius turned to his friend again. "Harry, I would like to introduce my very dearest friend, Raif Yed Prior. Raif, you know of Harry."

Harry's small paw was engulfed by a lean, strong hand; Raif grinned at him.

"Harry, my boy, the cavalry has arrived!"


	10. Raif

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Ten—Raif**

Despite the lateness of the hour, they all moved into the lounge. Lucius seated himself on the settee, pulling Harry down next to him, and flinging his arm around him. Harry noted a look of amusement on Raif's face, but snuggled against Lucius nonetheless. He wasn't going to deny himself the comfort of Lucius' body for anyone.

Tildy appeared, and was ordered to bring a bottle of brandy and three glasses.

"On reflection," Lucius said, "maybe you would prefer a butterbeer or something, Harry?"

Harry nodded gratefully. Settled before the fire, drinks in hand, the two older men began to talk. They had obviously shared many times together, and Harry began to drift into sleep as they reminisced over things he knew nothing about. It wasn't as if the two men purposely excluded Harry from the conversation; they simply forgot he was there.

Harry awoke in a darkened room. The fire had died down in the grate and all that was left was a few smoldering embers. A jacket had been thrown over him. In a moment, Harry decided what had happened. Lucius and Raif had gone to bed together, leaving him here. It was obvious that Lucius would prefer the good-looking and urbane Raif to a novice like himself. A feeling of abject misery threatened to overwhelm him. He had been right after all. Lucius had just used him; he hadn't meant any of the things he had said. Harry got to his feet, intent on making his escape to Grimmauld Place. He couldn't bear to be in the same house as Lucius and Raif, knowing that Raif was experiencing what he himself so craved.

A rumble of laughter sounded from the kitchen. Harry paused, then relief flooded over him as he picked up the sound of Lucius' voice. He made his way to the other room, blinking in the brighter light as he entered.

Raif was cooking eggs and bacon. Lucius was seated on the kitchen table, swinging his legs. They both looked around as Harry came in. 

Lucius grinned at him. "See, Raif, I told you the smell of food would bring Harry back into the land of the living. We've decided on an early breakfast, well not actually _that_ early," Lucius added, glancing at the slim gold watch that graced his wrist. "Want some?" 

Harry nodded, and came to stand rather awkwardly by Lucius. The blonde pulled Harry back to lean against the table between his legs. He rested his chin on Harry's shoulder.

This was another side of Lucius that Harry now discovered. Whatever else, Raif seemed to bring out a much lighter aspect of Lucius' nature. Lucius seemed somehow younger, more carefree.

Raif efficiently produced bacon and scrambled eggs for them all, then seated himself at the table. He produced the oddest looking wand Harry had ever seen. It was almost white in colour, about ten inches long and quite thick. He waved it, and produced a pot of coffee and three cups.

"Why didn't you do that with breakfast?" Harry asked.

"Afterthought," answered Raif, through a mouthful of bacon. "Besides," he added, "I like to cook" 

After polishing off his portion of breakfast, Harry yawned widely.

Raif laughed. "I saw his stomach, Lucius. I swear I did!"

Lucius joined in the laughter. "Mmm, I think it is high time I took Harry to bed. Poor boy, I do seem to keep him up until all hours."

Raif chuckled, as Harry blushed a fiery red.

********

When Harry awoke, he was alone in Lucius' big bed. They had made love before fatigue had finally claimed Harry. This time it had been slow and leisurely, and Harry had enjoyed it even more, now that he had some idea of what to expect.

He got up and, dragging on a pair of boxers, made his way to the bathroom. The house was silent. Harry had a quick shower, then dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Lucius had moved all Harry's things into the big bedroom, as Raif was staying in the guestroom.

Harry made his way outside, and onto the patio. Raif was sitting alone, reading the Prophet. He put the paper down as he caught sight of Harry.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Morning. Where's Lucius?"

Raif looked grave all of a sudden. "Sit down, Harry, there is something I need to tell you."

Harry sat down hesitantly on the nearest chair. He had a feeling this could be nothing but bad news.

Raif cleared his throat. "Lucius has had to go away for a while."

"What?" Harry blurted out. "He didn't say anything to me. Where's he gone? For how long?"

Raif held up his hand, halting Harry's questions. "Voldemort has ordered him away on a mission."

"What? Why didn't he tell me?" Harry interrupted again.

"He couldn't, Harry. If he had told you, then you would have felt obligated to tell the Order. That would have blown Lucius' cover. I believe," Raif added, "that the result of this particular mission has a great deal of bearing on whether Lucius gets to see Draco."

"But what about my friends?" Harry asked desperately. "I need to warn them, let them know to expect something. What if one of them gets injured, or even killed?" He jumped to his feet, intent on Flooing to the Burrow. Raif grabbed him as he went past, and held him firmly. Then the dark man stood up, towering over Harry.

"No can do, Harry. Lucius has blocked the Floo. He suspected that you might react this way."

Harry angrily threw off the hand that held him. "How could he do this to me? Why couldn't he tell me himself?" Harry was nearly crying in frustration.

Raif gripped Harry's shoulders, and shook him gently. "Lucius didn't tell you simply because he feared your reaction. You must understand, Harry, that Lucius is in very great danger. He may now be playing for your team, but he has to be seen to be playing for Voldemort as well. Until he has Draco safe. Then he can come out and declare his allegiance to the Order, if they'll have him," he added darkly.

"If I can't Floo out, then you must take me to the Burrow." Harry demanded. "I don't care what Lucius thinks, I must warn the Order."

Raif looked at Harry sadly. "You know I can't do that, Harry. I'm sorry to say this, but this is war, and in war there are casualties. You can be sure that Lucius will do his best to protect those you love. But you have to understand that Lucius has to protect those _he_ loves. Draco is his son, Harry. Can you not appreciate what Lucius is going through?"

Harry stormed inside. He felt trapped and betrayed. How could Lucius have done this to him? He had to have known how Harry would react, and had been too cowardly to face him. Harry stamped upstairs and, on entering Lucius' room, flung himself on the bed. Immediately, he jumped off again. How could he think of lying in Lucius' bed now? The man was a traitor.

He finally settled on the patch of lawn by his friend, the stream. Staring balefully at the water, he almost plucked up the courage to try and Apparate. But he had not practiced since the end of his last term at school, and the thought of being splinched put him off. He supposed he could just walk out, but he had no idea where he was. For all he knew he could be a hundred miles away from the Burrow. He put his head in his hands, fighting back tears of frustration.

Raif dropped onto the lawn by his side. He didn't speak, but his mere presence seemed to calm Harry. He took several deep breaths.

"Raif," he began, "I need to go. I can't stay here now, not after this."

"After what?" Raif asked reasonably.

"Lucius has betrayed me!" Harry shouted. "The whole time, last night, he knew what was going to happen and he didn't tell me. Why couldn't he trust me enough to tell me? Why is he treating me like a child? I trusted him," he went on more quietly. Harry looked up at Raif. "I trusted him," he whispered. 

Raif leaned across and brushed a lock of hair from Harry's eyes. "You were right to trust him, Harry. Lucius does have your best interests at heart, really. He cares for you a great deal."

"How can he, after what he's just done?"

"He had no choice, Harry. If he isn't successful with the task Voldemort has set him, there is a very real chance that Voldemort will kill Draco, and maybe even Lucius himself."

"So his family is more important than my friends, and I just have to sit back and let things take their course?" Harry stormed.

Raif frowned at him. "Would you really ask Lucius to give up his son for you? I was under the impression that one of the main reasons you asked Lucius to help you, was to rescue Draco."

The quiet words hit Harry like a slap. He bit his lip, and some of the fight went out of him. He dropped his eyes to the grass. "I'm sorry," he finally said quietly. "It’s just that so many people have died. I don't want to loose anyone else. They are only in danger because of me."

"That's not true, Harry. There were plenty of people who died fighting Voldemort before you came along. Then, they were fighting in desperation. You have given them the hope that there may be a chance of victory. It's hard, I know, to accept that there have to be casualties in war; that there has to be war in the first place. But your friends both know and accept that it is so. So did your parents."

Raif fell silent again. 

"I just feel so…useless, knowing that I could help them and not being able to. I feel like I'm betraying my friends.

"Harry, you shouldn't feel that way. You have been shouldering a responsibility you should never have been asked to assume in the first place. The members of the Order are all well used to looking behind them. And don't forget they have Mr. Paranoid himself working for them, Alastor Moody."

Harry smiled weakly, then his face fell again. "It's just that…well, I only have my friends left. I've already lost the only people who loved me."

"Your parents and your godfather, Sirius?" 

Harry nodded, then turned to Raif. "How do you know so much about me…and everything? I had never heard of you, but you seem to know so much."

"Ah, there is not a lot that goes on that I don't know about. But I prefer to view things from the sidelines. I am not a player, Harry. But you humans intrigue me."

Harry sat bolt upright. "What do you mean, _you humans_?"

Raif smiled. And Harry suddenly became aware of something…different, about him. Something in his eyes. They knew…they _seemed_ to know…everything, and they were as old as the hills. He asked the first question that jumped into his head, no idea of why he wanted to know the answer.

"How old are you, Raif?"

"Older than many, younger than some," Raif answered enigmatically.

Harry started to get to his feet. A strong brown hand pulled him back onto the grass.

"There is no need to be afraid of me, Harry. That I _will_ tell you."

"What are you?" Harry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. "You're not a werewolf, or a vampire or something, are you?"

The grin spread on Raif's face. "Oh, I'm definitely a _something_ , Harry." 

The rich, dark voice melted the worry from Harry's limbs. Raif looked so unthreatening, so relaxed, that Harry found himself answering the grin on the other man's face.

"I am of the Tuatha De Danann, Harry. We are akin to humans, but we are far older, and we walk our own path."

"Are there a lot of you?" Harry asked.

"A few, not many. Usually we prefer a solitary existence. 'I am the cat that walks by itself, and all places are alike to me.'"

Harry was confused. "What?" he said, frowning.

"Kipling, Harry. It means I go where I want, and am unaffected by my surroundings. I am me; that is sufficient."

"You mean, you don't get attached to people or places?"

"Very good, Harry. But perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I _choose_ not to let them affect me.”

"But what about Lucius? You and he…" Harry trailed off, embarrassed.

"Lucius is all things to me. Brother, friend, and yes, lover. Now I have a question for you. Will you answer it?"

Harry looked wary, then he nodded slowly. "I suppose so, depending on what it is."

"I have to admit to being somewhat surprised by the depth of your relationship with Lucius. It does not seem so long ago that you were sworn enemies. How is this so?"

Harry bent his head to stare at the ground. He began plucking at the grass.

"I don't really know myself," he said finally. "I didn't even know I was gay."

Somehow it didn't seem strange to be discussing such personal things with Raif. 

"Ah, the Muggle preoccupation with giving everything a label. I prefer to think we are attracted to people, regardless of their gender. Go on," he prompted, "about you and Lucius."

Harry bit his lip. "It just seemed to happen. I started feeling…funny whenever he was around. I still do," he added with a grin.

Raif smiled. "He does rather have that effect on people."

Harry's smile faded. "Do you mind, about me and him?" he asked tentatively.

Raif shook his head. "No, of course not. As I said before, Lucius is all things to me. I do have to admit to feeling somewhat jealous, however. Of him"

Harry blushed and found something very interesting to look at in the field across the stream.

"Still," Raif went on, "why this sudden change of heart?"

"I suppose, strange as it may seem after all we've been through, he makes me feel safe." Harry glanced back at the older man. "He kind of takes some of the _weight_ off me. He just seems so capable, so able to cope with everything. Even when he came back from seeing Voldemort the first time, when he was hurt, he still seemed to be in control. I suppose I've never had that, someone to take over for me, take control. Apart from Dumbledore, and that was different."

Raif was silent for a few moments; his gazed fixed on the water running beside them.

"You have never experienced what it is like to have a father figure, have you, Harry?"

"I don't think of Lucius like that." Harry said vehemently. "Not at all. I have had people who have been _fatherly_ to me: Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, even Sirius. Although I suppose, thinking about it, Sirius was more like a brother." He paused, unsure how to go on. "Lucius…excites me, not like a father at all." He blushed again.

"I take it he was your first?" Raif asked, watching Harry keenly.

Harry nodded. "He was so kind, and so gentle. And he—I can't believe I'm telling you this—talked me through everything." 

"Lucius is a consummate and considerate lover. His teaching will stand you in good stead for future partners."

"I don't want anyone else," Harry declared, hotly.

Raid laughed, then stopped quickly when he saw the earnest look on Harry's face.

"Harry, you are very much younger than Lucius. Surely you know there will come a time when you will prefer someone of your own age."

Harry shook his head vehemently. "I don't think about his age at all."

"You may not think about _his_ age; _he_ , I assure you, thinks about _yours_."

Harry went still. "What did he say?" he asked quietly, unsure if he really wanted to know.

"He has concerns that he forced you into something you may not have been ready for." 

"He didn't _force_ me into anything," Harry said loudly.

Raif raised a gentling hand. "Of course he didn't. If I thought he had, I would have removed you from here immediately. And he would have paid."

He said this with such deadly gravity, that Harry fully believed the earnestness of the statement. He had a glimpse of steel in the man before him, and suddenly had no doubt whatsoever that he would be an enemy the likes of which even Voldemort would pale beside.

Raif got to his feet. "Time to eat, I think, Harry." He stretched down a hand to the boy at his feet. Harry took it, and rose. Together they went into the house.


	11. The Hufflepuff Cup

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Eleven—The Hufflepuff Cup**

When they had eaten, Raif produced the Slytherin locket from his waistcoat pocket. Noticing the question in Harry's eyes, he said, "Lucius gave it into my safe-keeping. He thought we could have a look at it whilst he is away."

It looked like such an innocuous item, lying there on the kitchen table, the gold winking in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Will you be able to tell if it still contains Voldemort's bit of soul?" Harry asked.

Raif pulled the locket towards him, then placed a cupped hand over it. He closed his eyes. Harry watched silently. After a few moments, a pale green glow began to seep through Raif's fingers. The colour slowly intensified until it was a bright, pulsing emerald. Then there was a "snap". Raif sighed, and then removed his hand from the locket. It looked just the same as it had before. Harry looked at Raif.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, when Raif did not speak, "Is it still there or not?"

"No. It was, but it is not anymore." 

Harry looked astonished. "You mean you just destroyed it? Just then?"

Raif nodded. 

"But you didn't use your wand or anything!" Harry was truly flabbergasted. He'd had his suspicions that Raif had strong magic, but this demonstration of power was…incredible.

"Actually, Harry," Raif said with a smile, "my wand is purely for show. It is not necessary for my magic."

"Then why do you use it at all?" Harry himself would have liked nothing better than to perfect the art of wandless magic. 

"Mostly from habit. You must realise, Harry, that I am as much of an oddity in the Wizarding World as I would be in the Muggle one, and whilst wandless magic is not all that rare, using a wand attracts less notice. 

Harry returned his attention to the locket. "But you destroyed the bit of soul?"

"Yes."

"With no ill effects?"

Raif seemed to be considering. "None that I am aware of."

Harry shook is head. "That's amazing. Even Professor Dumbledore had problems."

"Ah, but the ring had been cursed. It belonged to the Peverill family."

Once again Harry was bemused by Raif's knowledge of things he had no reason to know anything about. "Who were the Peverill family? And why would the ring be cursed? If it was, how did Voldemort use it as a Horcrux?"

Raif laughed. "Slow down, Harry. The Peverill's were a very ancient pureblood wizarding family, who were steeped in the Dark Arts. They delved into places even wizards should not go. The ring that eventually ended up in the Gaunt family, was a ring of power, and the curse that the ring contained was an effective deterrent to anyone trying to steal it. It became an important heirloom to Voldemort's family, presumably why he chose it to be a Horcrux. I would imagine Albus was well aware of the fact that the ring was cursed, but decided to risk it in order to destroy the portion of soul that resided within it.” 

Harry looked thoughtful. "If the ring was as powerful as you say, could it have killed Professor Dumbledore?"

"If Albus had not been the supreme wizard that he was, I imagine it would have killed him immediately. It was only Albus' power that prevented that."

"His hand and arm wouldn't heal." 

"Damage limitation, Harry. Albus seems to have tried to prevent the course of the curse through his body by sacrificing his limb." 

"Would it have killed him eventually?" Harry asked slowly.

Raif nodded. "Oh, yes. He would have been growing weaker day by day."

"Raif," Harry asked, "do you think the potion could have been a Horcrux?" He felt no need for any explanation; he realised that Raif seemed to be completely cognisant of everything that had gone on.

"I think you are probably right, it was. Albus was not afraid to ingest it, along with the portion of soul, because he knew he was already dying."

Harry frowned as more thoughts intruded into his mind. "Do you suppose that it could have been Snape who created the potion in the first place?" Not giving Raif time to answer, Harry rushed on. "That way, he would have known what to expect. That's why Dumbledore took me along!" he said with the air of someone who was on the brink of a great revelation. "Snape told Dumbledore how dangerous the potion was, that he would never be able to drink it all without assistance, that it would kill anyone who was not Voldemort. But it was the only way to get to the locket, so Dumbledore had to drink it. But he didn't care because he was dying already! And he probably had to die in order for the bit of soul that was in him to be destroyed." Harry stopped, breathless.

A strange look came over his face. "Raif, when we were at the top of the Tower, and Snape came, Professor Dumbledore…well, he seemed to _plead_ with him. I always thought he was asking Snape to help him, and perhaps he was, but not in the way I thought! Maybe he was asking Snape to _kill_ him, to finish the job the ring and the potion had already started, and to save _Draco_ from having to kill him." These thoughts were almost an anathema to Harry, who had, for so long, refused to believe anything good about his Potions master. "Even towards the end, he wanted me to go and get Snape." Harry's eyes began to water as his memories of the fateful night returned afresh.

"Harry," Raif said gently, "there are some things we are not supposed to know, some things we will never know, and some things we wish we didn't know." 

"I don't understand."

"If the knowledge is meant to be yours, it will come to you.”

"But it's so frustrating," Harry stormed.

Raif picked up the locket from the table and handed it to Harry. "Here, this is yours now. It is quite safe," he added, noting Harry's reluctance to touch the object. “It is a powerful protective amulet, and so you should look after it.”

Harry tentatively picked up the locket by the chain, then dropped it quickly into his jeans pocket.

********

Lucius did not return that night. Harry and Raif sat in silence until Raif finally said, "How about a game of chess, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I doubt I could concentrate, and besides, I'm rubbish at it."

Raif smiled. "Actually, I have to admit to being more of an Exploding Snap man myself." He produced a pack of cards with a pass of his hand. 

Harry stared at them a moment, then grinned. "That is such a cool trick!"

"I aim to impress!" the older man said with a laugh.

They broke into Lucius’ wine cellar, ignoring the squeaks of protest from Tildy when Raif retrieved a bottle of what he said was a very good vintage red wine. Harry discovered that he liked wine rather more than he liked brandy, and they were well down a second bottle when Raif decided that Harry had no head for alcohol, and transported him to bed, whilst Harry giggled madly.

Raif pulled off Harry's shoes, and then threw the bed covers over him.

"I'll have a hangover remedy ready for you in the morning." He laughed.

In a last moment of clarity before sleep overwhelmed him, Harry looked blearily up at Raif and said, "Thank you. For today. You made things better." His eyes flickered shut, then he opened them again. "I think I love him, you know. Lucius. I don't know why, I just do. That's why it hurt so much, what he did. I trusted him, but he didn't trust me,” he trailed off, and his eyes shut. Soon, gentle snores punctuated the still night air.

Raif stood looking at the boy on the bed. Asleep, Harry looked a lot younger than his seventeen years, and Raif sighed and shook his head before he quenched the candles and shut the bedroom door.

********

It was a very subdued Harry who trailed down to breakfast the next morning. Raif said nothing, but suppressed a smile as he handed Harry a small blue bottle of liquid. Harry drank it, and did feel slightly better. Well enough, in fact, to eat a large quantity of breakfast, but then, as Raif joked, Harry would probably have to be dead for anyone to notice a reduction in his appetite. Harry merely argued, between mouthfuls, that he was a growing boy.

There was still no sign of Lucius. Harry was becoming more and more worried. Raif's attempts to distract him, although well-meant, were proving more of an annoyance than anything else. Harry just wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery. Raif refused to let him. He thrust the “Hogwarts: A History” book at Harry and told him to look for anything about Helga Hufflepuff. 

"But we already know that Voldemort used the Hufflepuff Cup as a Horcrux," Harry whined.

"Perhaps the book will give us some clue as to where Voldemort may have hidden it, Harry."

Harry looked sullen. "It could be anywhere. Voldemort hid things in places that meant something to _him_."

They both looked at each other with a dawning realisation. "Hogwarts!" they said together. 

Harry smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Of course, how can we have been so stupid? It's been under our noses all this time! Voldemort used his visit to ask for the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, as a cover for his plan to hide the Cup at Hogwarts." 

The brief moment of elation was quickly curtailed however, when Harry remembered just how huge Hogwarts was. "But the school is enormous," he wailed. "It's almost as bad as not knowing where it is. We could search for a year and never find it."

"No, think, Harry. Dumbledore was hardly likely to have allowed Voldemort to go roaming around the school, was he? Therefore we can narrow our search down to somewhere between the entrance hall and the Headmaster's study."

"My map!" said Harry excitedly. He rushed up to Lucius' room, and ferreted through his trunk for the Marauder’s Map. Back downstairs, he produced it with a flourish. Raif was impressed. 

Together they pored over the route from the entrance hall up to Dumbledore's study. Even having limited the search to this area, there was still a lot of ground to cover. Harry was saddened to note that the only person marked on the Map was Argus Filch, in the rooms he inhabited, with Mrs. Norris by his side. There were only three days to go until the start of term, and it looked to Harry as if he was not the only one who wouldn't be going back to school. No doubt, had an owl been able to find him, he would have by now received a letter telling him that Hogwarts had been closed. 

"At least it will make it easier to go and have a look around," he said eventually.

Raif looked uneasy. "I hope you are not thinking of going until Lucius returns?" he asked.

Harry looked puzzled. "Of course we're going now. What's the point in hanging around? We can leave a note for Lucius. You _can_ Apparate, can't you? Only, I'm not very good at it, and I need to Side-Along with someone."

"Yes, I can Apparate. But I'm not sure about this, Harry. What if we are spotted?"

Harry grinned. "I have the very thing."

********

They Apparated into Hogwarts itself, as all the wards seemed to have been dissolved. Harry had flung the invisibility cloak around them both before they Apparated, but now it seemed unnecessary. The school was strangely quiet and eerily empty.

The castle felt deserted, and that shocked Harry. Even during the holidays when he had stayed at school, the building had never been this quiet. One could always hear the babble of voices coming from somewhere. He glanced at the Map to make sure Filch and Mrs. Norris were still in their room, then folded up the cloak.

Although there was no one, apart from Filch, in the building, Raif and Harry spoke in whispers. There was an almost church-like air of solemnity, and neither one of them wanted to break the brooding silence. A shaft of late afternoon sunlight filtered through the dust motes, turning them into flecks of gold. The familiar smells still remained: chalk and children; food and potions; the metallic tang caused by a frisson of left-over magic. Their footsteps echoed dolefully as they began to search the entrance hall.

********

They hunted diligently: every corridor, every room along the route, until finally it became too dark to see properly, and Harry was preparing to give up the search. "We can't see much in this light," he complained. "We might as well go home and come back again tomorrow." They had come across a display cabinet that housed some of the school trophies. He called Raif over to point out his father's name on the Quidditch shield.

"I believe _you_ play Seeker for Gryffindor, Harry?" Raif commented.

"Yes. Well, I did. There won't be a season this year, of course." Harry looked sadly at the great Quidditch Cup he had been so proud to win. He shrugged, and blinked the tears from his eyes; there was no point in getting sentimental. Harry sighed; with Hogwarts gone, there was no real place he could call home anymore. He had vowed never to return to the Dursley's, and Grimmauld Place held too many memories for him to ever wish to live there. For six years of his life, Hogwarts had provided him with a sanctuary, a place he could call his own. There had been times of trouble, but the good times had balanced them out—his friendships with Ron and Hermione, Fred and George, and Ginny.

Harry thought about Ginny with only a small pang of regret, knowing he would never again experience that kind of innocence. Lucius had claimed his body and his heart, swept him away with a passion he could never have imagined. He craved Lucius' slightest touch, remembering the ecstasy he had experienced in the man's arms. Ginny's touch now seemed like a shadow of the real thing. 

And still there was Voldemort to contend with. Harry turned away from the cabinet and glanced at Raif. The older man was still leaning against it, arms folded, a smile on his face.

"I don't know what you've found to smile about," Harry said waspishly. "We've got to come back here tomorrow and do this all over again, then probably the next day, then the next," he snapped.

"Raif merely smiled more broadly. "I'll forgive you your lack of manners, Harry, on this occasion. Did you say you had seen the Cup?" he asked conversationally. 

"Yes"

"And how would you describe it?"

Harry bit his lip and frowned. "About so high." He indicated with his hands. "Gold, with two handles…. Why?”

Raif grinned, and tapped the glass of the cabinet.

Harry turned and looked into the case. "What? So, there’s a cup that looks like it," he added, on finally spotting what Raif was pointing to. "There are probably hundreds of cups that look like it, and he's hardly likely to have hidden it here where everyone can see it, is he?"

"Ah, but people are not _seeing_ it, are they? They are seeing a school trophy. Have you never heard of hiding things in plain sight?"

Harry looked sceptical. "But surely Dumbledore would have noticed it. He must have walked past here nearly everyday."

"But most of the _everydays_ he was walking past it, he _wasn't_ looking for it. Don't you see," Raif persisted, "it was only in the last few months that Dumbledore became fully aware of what Voldemort had done. Oh, he had his suspicions, but it was only with each memory he retrieved that things gradually became clearer, more certain. And it probably never occurred to him either, that Voldemort would chose such a blatantly obvious hiding place. After all, weren't the locket and the potion in a remote cave?" 

Harry nodded, his eyes on the innocuous looking cup. Raif turned and placed a hand over the lock on the cabinet. There was a satisfying "click", and the door swung forward. Harry reached in to take the cup, but his arm was grabbed by Raif, just as his fingers were about to the seize one of the handles.

"Best let me, Harry," Raif cautioned. Harry snatched back his hand, a sudden recollection of Dumbledore's blackened arm having lurched into his head. Raif put his hand close to the Cup, and then closed his eyes. A gentle golden light pushed out from his palm and drifted around the Cup. For a few seconds nothing else happened, then Raif reached out and took hold of the Hufflepuff Cup


	12. Draco

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Twelve—Draco**

The cottage was still empty when Harry and Raif returned. They both heaved a sigh of relief; although Raif had left a note, neither one of them had been particularly keen on facing Lucius had he returned before them.

Harry's relief, however, was tempered by worry. Despite his anger over what Lucius had done, Harry missed the man more than he cared to admit. Lucius had been gone for two full days and a night now, and each hour that went past increased Harry's fear that something had gone wrong. Even his normally voracious appetite was diminished and Raif regarded him with obvious concern, as Harry pushed his evening meal around his plate. 

They had eaten in the kitchen. Once Tildy had cleared the plates away, they both remained seated at the table. Harry began biting his nails. A large clock on the kitchen wall ticked away the minutes, and the noise of the ticking became so loud to Harry, that all he wanted to do was wrench the clock off the wall and throw it though the window. Raif must have shared the sentiment because suddenly he jabbed his hand at the clock and the ticking ceased, the hand continuing to count out the time, but now it did so silently. 

"Thanks" Harry muttered.

"You're welcome." 

Harry dropped his head onto the table, then began banging it on the wooden surface.

"Stop it."

Bang, bang, bang.

"I said _stop it_ , Harry. You mustn't worry so much; Lucius will be fine."

"Will he? Then why are _you_ so worried?" Harry snapped, his fear making him lash out at the only available person. 

"All right, I admit to being a little…concerned, but Lucius is well able to take care of himself."

There was an abrupt "pop" from the lounge. They both jumped to their feet and charged into the other room. Lucius stood by the fireplace, and by his side was Draco.

Any recriminations Harry might have voiced died on his lips. Draco looked…dreadful. There was no other word for it. His skin was frightening in its pallor; dark shadows lurked beneath his eyes, which were dull and lifeless. Always slim, Draco now looked almost emaciated, his skin stretched with thin fragility over his bones. He swayed slightly and Lucius pulled him into an embrace. Harry saw tears begin to stream down Draco's face, and he turned away and crept quietly back into the kitchen. Whatever Draco needed right now, it was not his worst enemy witnessing him crying.

It seemed a long while later when the kitchen door finally opened. Harry glanced up from his place at the table, expecting to see Lucius or Raif, but it was Draco who entered. He came up to Harry, who rose as Draco neared him. 

"Thank you." The voice was barely above a whisper. "For freeing my father. I don't know what…." His voice broke, and he began to cry again. Without thinking about it, Harry pulled Draco into a hug, feeling the other boy's thin shoulders shaking inside his encircling arms. Draco didn't try to pull away; if anything he settled closer to Harry. The sound of his sobs caused tears to rise in Harry's own eyes, and the two clung together, gaining comfort from one another.

After a short while, Draco pulled himself together and drew away from Harry's arms. He withdrew a grubby handkerchief from his pocket and, after making a grimace of distaste, wiped his eyes and nose with it. Harry wiped away the traces of his own tears with the sleeve of his jumper. They looked at each other for a moment, then Draco said, "What's going on, Potter, sorry, _Harry?_ Why are you here?"

Harry looked bemused. "Hasn't your Dad told you anything?"

Draco shrugged. "There wasn't really time. Severus got a call from…from _him_ this afternoon, telling him that I had to be brought to headquarters this evening." Draco paused and a shudder ran through him. "I thought he'd finally decided to kill me," he whispered, a tremor in his voice. Then he added more strongly, "When we got there, my Father was…he was…waiting for me." Draco started to cry again, and Harry pulled the taller boy back into a hug. This time it didn't take long before Draco once again managed to control himself. "I was so relieved to see him, but I knew I couldn't show it. Father just bowed to… _him_ and we Apparated away." Draco looked embarrassed. "I've been pretty much crying ever since."

"Hey, I don't blame you—you must have been so bloody scared." Harry gazed with concern at his erstwhile enemy. "Well," he went on, "there's been quite a lot happening."

They sat down at the kitchen table and Harry went on to explain to Draco about the Horcruxes. The blonde boy whistled in amazement. "Merlin, Pot…, erm, Harry, that's really Dark magic. And you're telling me that… _he_ has split his soul _seven_ times?”

Harry nodded, then said, "Well, actually I think it was only six. I think my death was supposed to be for the seventh. Which reminds me," he added, a sudden thought leaping into his mind. "I've not told your Dad that Raif and I found the Hufflepuff Cup. Anyway," he went on, "now that we have all the Horcruxes, it's time to face Voldemort." Harry noticed Draco flinch at the name and gave him an anxious look. "That's where your Dad comes in," he continued. "Hopefully he is going to be my way in to…well, to _him_ ," he said, adopting Draco's way of referring to Voldemort, out of sympathy for the other boy's obvious discomfort with the name.

"But why did my Father decide to help you in the first place? You have to admit that you and he make pretty unlikely partners."

Harry blushed before he realised that, of course, Draco had used the word in a different sense. Then a feeling of dread swept over him. Was it true that Snape had not told Draco about the death of his mother? Had Lucius not said anything either, perhaps assuming that Draco already knew? His eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He was saved from having to think of a reply by the timely arrival of Raif and Lucius himself. 

He moved to stand behind his son, and dropped a hand onto his shoulder. His eyes tried to meet Harry's, but now that Harry's concern over Lucius had been assuaged, all his anger had resurfaced and he resolutely refused to meet Lucius' gaze. All right, Harry appreciated that Lucius had had to think of his family, but the fact that he had been so cowardly about telling Harry to his face; that he had not trusted Harry, that he had left Raif to do the dirty deed…that made Harry angry

The idea of any further conversation was firmly put to rest by Draco falling abruptly and completely asleep, his head dropping onto the wooden table with a "thunk". The question of sleeping arrangements came into Harry's mind, and before either man could say anything, he said quickly, "Draco can share with his Dad. That way, Raif, you can keep your bed and I'll have the sofa. We can all talk about everything in the morning. Good night." He rose from his seat and hurriedly left the kitchen, studiously avoiding looking at Lucius as he passed. He went into the sitting room and closed the door firmly behind him. Then he leant against it, and let out the breath he had been holding.

What else could he do? He argued to himself. He couldn't very well sleep with Lucius with Draco in the house. Besides, the thought of sleeping with Lucius after what he had done was not to be borne. “You liar,” scoffed an inner voice. “You would like nothing better than to be in his arms, but you can't get over your foolish pride.”

There was a quiet knock on the door; Harry's heart began to pound. But it was only Raif, with an armful of blankets.

"At least let me Transfigure the settee to something a little more comfortable?" he asked, after dropping the blankets onto a chair.

Harry shook his head, the disappointment that Raif wasn't Lucius, heavy within him. "No, thank you, but I'll be fine. It's only for tonight; I’m going back to my friends tomorrow."

Raif raised an eyebrow, but refrained from comment. Before he left, he flicked a hand towards the hearth, and a fire sprang into life, crackling merrily. "To keep you company," he commented, before closing the door behind him.

Harry stripped off his clothes, then wrapped himself in the blankets. Lying down on the sofa, he watched the flames dancing in the hearth and thought about what he had said to Raif. Yes, he was going back to the Weasleys’ tomorrow. He hadn't consciously made that decision until the moment that it had come out of his mouth, but now that he thought about it, it seemed the obvious thing to do.

The insidious voice came back. _“And what about your plan to use Lucius to get into Voldemort's lair?”_ Harry frowned. Yes, what about that plan? Well, he reasoned, he could come back here when the time was right. _“And you think Lucius will go for that, do you?”_ the voice asked with a sneer. Well, it's obvious Lucius doesn't care about me, otherwise he would be here now, trying to talk to me, Harry grumbled to himself. _“Chase me, chase me,”_ scoffed the voice. _“Why should he come to you, when you are behaving like such a child, not even giving him a chance to explain?”_ There's nothing _to_ explain. Now, shut up and let me go to sleep. 

Harry turned over and pressed his face into the back of the sofa. He was nearly asleep when the door opened. He didn't need to turn around to know that this time it was Lucius. Harry could hear the rustle of material as Lucius closed the door, then came over and seated himself in one of the fireside chairs. Harry tried harder to pretend to be asleep. After a few moments of silence, during which Harry wondered whether he should try a snore or two, Lucius spoke.

"I infer from your silence that you believe we have something to talk about."

Harry hunched his shoulder and burrowed deeper in the blankets.

"I am fully aware that you are awake. Now stop being silly, and talk to me."

"Shouldn't you be upstairs with Draco? He may wonder where you are," Harry answered coldly, from his tangle of blankets.

"Draco has taken a Dreamless Sleep Potion and will be asleep until the morning. It is not Draco's welfare that I am here to discuss."

Harry sat bolt upright and turned round to face Lucius. "Oh, you think there is something to discuss now, do you? It's a pity you didn't think that before you went swanning off to kill some people for your Dark Lord." He glared at Lucius.

“For your information, I killed no one. My talents lie in a somewhat more subtle direction." Lucius had the grace to look embarrassed. "Raif did warn me that not telling you to your face was probably a bad idea.”

"It's a pity you didn't listen to him then, isn't it?" Harry snapped. His temper rose even higher. "It seems to me that you think I'm old enough to fuck, but in everything else you still treat me like a child. Do you know how much it hurt to find that you'd just gone, that you hadn't trusted me enough to tell me what you had to do?"

"It wasn't a question of trust," Lucius broke in. 

"What was it, then?" Harry interrupted, before Lucius had a chance to say any more.

Lucius took a deep breath, but before he could attempt to answer Harry's question, the young wizard was off again. "I can't believe you. I suppose you're only interested in what you get out of this. Well you needn't worry; now you've got Draco back, I'm going back to the Burrow!" He flopped back down on the sofa and pulled the blankets over his head, only to have them ripped off a second later by a very angry Lucius.

"You will listen to what I have to say. Even if I have to put you under a spell."

"The time for talking was before you went off to do what Voldemort told you," Harry said petulantly as he sat back up again.

"I realise that, Harry," Lucius said, regaining his composure. "Now, will you listen to me, or do I have to get my wand out?" 

Harry desperately suppressed the urge to snigger. A display of schoolboy humour would be highly inappropriate given the circumstances. Instead, he glared at Lucius and nodded his head. "Go on, then, explain," he said with ill grace, folding his arms.

Lucius smiled. "Mmm, do you know how adorable you look when you are angry?"

"Less of the corny lines, and more of the explanations, if you _don't_ mind," Harry snapped, trying not to blush.

Lucius' smile faded and he looked serious. "I didn't tell you to your face for two reasons, the first being that, for all I knew, it would be the last time I saw you. I didn't want to leave you angry with me. Do you know," he continued, "I sat and watched you sleep for an hour before I left? Just drinking you in, trying to etch you into my mind." Lucius looked down at his hands and when he next spoke, his voice was so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear him. "The few brief hours I managed to sleep whilst I was away were filled with dreams of you. My waking hours, no less so. All I wanted was to get my task over with so I could return to your side." 

It was such a huge declaration of sentiment that Harry was shocked. Whilst he had liked to believe that maybe Lucius did feel something for him, this depth of emotion stunned him. He didn't know what to do. Part of him was crying out to be allowed to cross the few feet that separated them, hurl himself into Lucius’ arms, and declare that they should never be parted again. But another part of him insisted that Lucius had not fully explained his behaviour.

"You said there were two reasons," he managed to say.

Lucius looked at him. "The second reason? I was afraid you might just be able to persuade me not to go."

Harry swallowed hard. He knew just how big an admission that was, that Lucius had contemplated sacrificing his son for Harry. "So it wasn't because you didn't trust me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Of course not." Lucius paused. "It was because I didn't trust myself."

Harry gave in to the demands of his heart and his body, and scrambled off the sofa, onto Lucius lap, and into the older wizard's welcoming arms. They clung to each other, Lucius nearly crushing the air from Harry's lungs, so strong was his embrace. Finally, he slackened his hold so he could push Harry away and look into the boy's eyes. "Whatever have you done to me, Harry Potter? And whatever could _I_ have done to deserve someone so pure and wonderful as you?" He ducked his head to kiss Harry, his tongue searching out the deepest depths of Harry's mouth. Harry was equally fervent in his attentions to Lucius' mouth, his fingers pushing through the long white-blonde hair, pulling Lucius deeper into the kiss.

They slid to the floor, firelight flickering over their bodies. Lucius shrugged off his black silk dressing gown to reveal an expanse of naked, pale flesh. Harry, who had been only dressed in his boxers, was soon equally naked, and the two twined around each other, as if desperate to press as much of themselves to the other as possible.

Lucius soon prepared Harry's body with spell and fingers; Harry writhing on the rug as the older man swept over the sweet spot in Harry's body with each impulse of his fingers. Then Harry brought his knees up to his chest and spread them, making room for Lucius as the older wizard moved to position himself between his young lover's smooth thighs, his slick cock pressing against the entrance to Harry's body. For a moment, Lucius' silver eyes bored into Harry's, then Harry gasped, "Take me Lucius, make me yours." 

Lucius did not need to be asked twice, and with one thrust he buried himself in Harry's tight, warm body. The cry that escaped from Harry's lips was captured by Lucius' mouth as he swept down to seize a kiss from the boy beneath him.

They moved as one, their bodies now familiar with the other's rhythm and needs. Each thrust of Lucius' was met by an urge of Harry's hips as he rose to meet each plunge of his lover's cock. Legs wrapped around Lucius' broad, strong back, Harry clung to the older wizard, riding the storm of their love-making, his head thrown back, moans of ecstasy punctuating his gasping breath.

Lucius reached between them, his slim fingers reaching for Harry's needy cock. At the first deft touch, Harry's body stiffened as the tidal wave that was his orgasm swept through him, deluging his senses with its primal intensity, his face wet with tears. Lucius was close behind him, his own release tearing a cry of joy from between his parted lips.

They sank in a heap before the fire, the light from the flames flickering on the sheen of sweat that coated their naked bodies, their panting breaths loud in the stillness of the room. As the sweat on his body cooled, Harry shivered, and Lucius reached to cover them with one of the blankets that Raif had brought in, snuggling Harry more firmly against his body as he did so. They slept, wrapped around each other, as if determined they should not be parted in the night.

********

Harry awoke with a mouthful of Lucius' hair, just as dawn was colouring the dark with pearly grey. Lucius was still asleep, and for a while, Harry lay propped on one elbow, just watching the older man as he slumbered. At rest, Lucius face was more relaxed, the lines that often creased his forehead smoothed away. Harry put out a finger and, shadow-soft, traced the line of Lucius' slightly parted lips; then he ducked his head and pressed his nose to Lucius' broad chest, inhaling the scent that was intrinsically Lucius. It was a mixture of honey and vanilla, with an undercurrent of something that reminded Harry of the smell of trees. He sniffed again, attempting to pinpoint the elusive aroma.

"What are you doing?" Lucius asked in an amused voice.

Harry grinned as he met his lover's grey eyes. "Trying to figure out what you smell of."

"Sex, sweat and you, probably,” Lucius answered succinctly. "Speaking of which…." His grin matched Harry's as he rolled the young wizard onto his back.

********

They made love slowly, tenderness in every touch, smothering each other's cries of release with kisses.

Lucius crept back to his room before Draco awoke, leaving Harry to burrow into the blankets that still retained the warmth and scent of the man he loved.


	13. Rumours of War

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Thirteen—Rumours of War**

The bottom of the garden by the stream had become nearly as familiar to Harry as the inside of the cottage. He and Raif were desultorily flicking pebbles into the running water as they waited for Lucius to tell Draco about the loss of his mother.

As soon as breakfast had finished, Harry had managed to take Lucius to one side and tell him that he believed Draco was unaware of his mother's death. Lucius had been furious, both with himself for not thinking to mention it earlier, and with Severus for not telling Draco in the first place. Harry and Raif beat a hasty retreat.

They had been outside for an hour now, waiting for Lucius to come and tell them they could come back inside. Harry broke the silence.

"Raif?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you known Lucius for long?"

Plipp. Another pebble flicked into the water. 

"All his life."

Harry smiled. "I notice you don't say all _your_ life."

Raif glanced at him. "Why the preoccupation with my age, Harry?"

"Dunno, just interested I suppose. Hey, for all I know you could be older than Dumbledore." He bent and picked up another stone; then tossed it into the stream.

"I am considerably older than Albus. To me he was a mere child."

"Really?" Harry watched as Raif, with considerable accuracy, dropped a pebble onto a stone that stuck out of the water in the middle of the stream. "So," he went on, "you've known Lucius for a long time."

Raif stopped throwing stones, and turned to Harry. "What's on your mind?"

Harry frowned and bit his lip. "I suppose, well, I'm sure he must have had, what I mean to say is…."

Raif sighed. "Spit it out, Harry."

Harry swallowed hard. "I suppose he's had lots of lovers?"

Raif smiled. "I gather you and he have settled your differences?" Harry nodded. "I thought as much," Raif went on, "when I heard his footsteps descend the stairs last night, and only return up them again this morning. That and the fact that you haven't mentioned going back to your friends."

Harry gave a Cheshire cat grin. "Yes, we, erm, talked things over last night. Well? Has he had lots of lovers?" he added, refusing to be distracted from his question.

"Do you not think that it might be more appropriate to ask Lucius that question?"

Harry stuck out his lip. "Fine, don't tell me then. That probably means you know he's had so many he's lost count."

Raif laughed. "Do not think you can blackmail me into telling you, Harry. It won't work." He gazed at the boy by his side. "What I will tell you, however, is that I have never seen Lucius this way about anyone. You have breached the citadel."

Harry looked confused. "What?"

"His love for you shines in his eyes whenever he looks your way," Raif said gently. "Lucius does not love easily, and I do not think the times ahead will be without trouble, but I have hope for you both. You have changed him more than I thought possible. I see a lightness in his soul that wasn't there before. Too long he has followed a dark path, but I think you may have brought him to where the sun shines." 

"Raif?"

"Yes?"

"Why _did_ Lucius follow Voldemort for so long? _You_ don't; couldn't you have persuaded _him_ not to?"

"Harry, you forget that it is not my role to change things. I merely observe."

"But you're not _observing_ now; you're helping us."

"Hmm, and perhaps more than I should."

"But you _will_ come with us when we go to face Voldemort, won't you?" Harry asked, a note of desperation in his voice as he gazed up at the older man.

Raif turned to him sadly. "No, Harry, I will not be going with you."

"But how can you just walk away from this? This is so important."

"To you, in your brief time on earth, yes, it may be so." Raif dropped a hand onto Harry's shoulder. "I won't be coming with you, but I will aid you in any way I can, that I promise."

"I don't know how you can live like this! You said you can _choose_ whether you become involved or not; why can't you _choose_ to become involved now?" Harry asked angrily.

Raif looked at him sympathetically. "I cannot explain why this has to be so, Harry, but it has always been this way, _will_ always be this way, until the time comes when I no longer have a choice. Then I, and the rest of my brethren, will rise together."

Harry had to be content with that very unsatisfactory answer. No matter how he pleaded, Raif resolutely refused to say any more. 

********

"Raif! Harry!" Lucius called through the French doors. With a sigh of relief, the pair made their way back into the cottage to find Lucius and Draco seated at the dining room table. Draco looked red-eyed but determined; he managed a weak smile in Harry's direction as he sat down. 

"Right," Lucius began, "let's have a quick resume of events to date. If what Harry believes is true, then we only have to find the Hufflepuff Cup…."

Harry hissed at Raif, "Haven't you told him?"

"I thought _you_ might have done that," Raif hissed back, then produced the Cup from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Lucius regarded it steadily for a moment. "Harry, just remind me why you wanted me, I mean, my help," he corrected himself quickly. "Where … when…?" he stammered, shaking his head and looking completely confused. 

"Yesterday, at Hogwarts," Harry answered with a grin.

Lucius shot Raif an evil glare. "I thought I asked you to make sure Harry remained here?" he demanded.

Raif shrugged. "You know Harry."

Lucius gave Harry the benefit of a withering look. "Yes, indeed I do. Anyway, as I was saying, now that we _have_ the Hufflepuff Cup, if Harry is right, then we are in possession of the remaining Horcruxes. Are you sure about this, Harry?"

Harry sat straighter in his chair. "Okay," he began. "Dumbledore was working on the theory that Voldemort,—sorry Draco—, that _he_ …."

"It's okay," Draco interrupted, "say his name; I'm just being stupid."

Harry went on. "Right, so I think Voldemort originally intended to split his soul into seven parts; mine was to be the death for the last split. Two birds with one stone, if you like. He gets to wipe out the threat he was warned about in the bit of the prophecy he heard, and he can use my death for the Horcrux. Only, things didn't go quite to plan. I didn't die."

"Thankfully," Lucius muttered.

Draco gave his Father an odd look. Harry hurried on.

"So I think we only have to worry about six soul bits, because he never got a chance to complete the last one. Okay, the first bit was in Tom Riddle's diary, that _you_ gave to Ginny Weasley," Harry said, casting an accusatory look in Lucius' direction.

"I didn't know!" Lucius pleaded. "I only intended her to be discovered with one of Voldemort's things and bring disgrace on her family."

"Only? I'll be sure to point that out to Mrs. Weasley next time I see her!" Harry grinned at Lucius, then went on. "Right, so the diary was the first Horcrux; well, actually I don't know what order they came in, but anyway. Then there was the Gaunt ring, the locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin, and Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. Those I'm certain about. I _think_ the potion that covered the locket in the stone bowl was another Horcrux, the one he chose to represent Rowena Ravenclaw. He was collecting stuff that belonged to the founders of Hogwarts," Harry explained in an aside to Draco. "So, with the portion that is still in his body, that makes six." He sat back and looked at the others around the table.

"We are taking a gamble on the potion, then?" Lucius said slowly.

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore did say something about Nagini maybe being a Horcrux, but I don't know, it doesn't feel right somehow."

Lucius turned to Raif. "What are our chances of destroying Voldemort if Harry is wrong and there is another Horcrux out there?"

Raif shook his head. "Slim to none."

"Hadn't you better de-soul the Cup?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Done," Raif answered, trying not to smile smugly.

They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the small cup, then Lucius spoke again. "So, what is your plan, Harry?"

Harry looked startled. "Oh, well, let me see. I think we’ll just have to hope that I am right. I am fairly sure I am. So, that means that the next step is for me to get close enough to Voldemort to kill him. Sounds easy, doesn't it?" The tone of his voice suggested that he thought it was anything but.

"I have to take Draco back to Voldemort tomorrow evening," Lucius said slowly.

Draco gasped. 

"Don't worry, Draco, you're not going back. He's not going back, is he, Lucius?" Harry demanded.

Lucius looked worried. "I don't see what else I can do."

Harry slapped the table with the palm of his hand. "Damn! If only we had a month."

"Whatever for?" Lucius asked.

"Polyjuice Potion." Harry looked around the table again. "Don't you see, if we had time to brew some Polyjuice potion, then I could turn into Draco. He doesn't want to go back to Voldemort; I need to get near the scaly bastard. Perfect solution, only we don't have a month …" he trailed off, looking despondent.

"We don't need a month."

They all turned and looked at Raif.

"I can do it. The effect won't last as long as it would with Polyjuice, but I can give you twenty minutes, maybe a bit longer."

Harry looked excited. “That will be all the time we need; we just need to get close enough to Voldemort for me to kill him.” 

Lucius looked at his friend gravely. "Are you sure about this, Raif?"

Raif nodded. "I promised Harry I would help if I could."

"That's brilliant. So, Lucius, you take me, disguised as Draco, with you tomorrow. Voldemort won't suspect anything because he is expecting to see you both. Then I kill him." Harry's voice trembled and he went pale.

Lucius reached across the table and covered Harry's hand with his own. Harry smiled at him weakly. "Do you think we should invite the Order to the party?" he asked Lucius.

Lucius nodded. "I think it might be as well. I can't imagine Bellatrix, for one, will be too happy if you manage to kill Voldemort… _when_ you kill Voldemort," he corrected. "I think we may well need some assistance at that point," Lucius added, dryly. 

"I'd better send them a message, then. Can I have a bit of parchment and some ink and a quill?"

Raif produced them with a pass of his hand, and Harry set about writing to the Order.

"We need to be absolutely sure about timing," he stressed. "It wouldn't do for them to arrive too early. Or too late," he added quietly. "What time are you supposed to take Draco back?" he asked Lucius. 

"Nine-thirty." 

"Okay, well, if we tell them they must come at nine forty-five, that will give us fifteen minutes. What if they don't believe my letter?" Harry asked with sudden concern. "I'd really better go and see them myself."

" **No** ," Lucius said loudly. "I'm not letting you go back to them now. I won't see you again if they get hold of you."

A frown creased Draco's brow, but it went unnoticed.

"But they might just think it's a trap and not come! Then we would be in deep shit," Harry cried. "You've got to let me go. I can explain, tell them what the plan is, then come back here, to you."

Lucius struck his fist on the table, but before he could launch into another angry outburst, Raif intervened.

"I'll go, and I'll take Draco with me." He looked around at the others. "It makes sense," he argued. "The Order knows me…." 

"They also know you are my friend," Lucius interrupted harshly.

"But I will have Draco with me as a guarantee. They know you won't risk tricking them if they have your son as a hostage." He looked steadily at Lucius.

Lucius frowned, his expression dark, but finally he nodded. "I suppose it might work, just so long as Harry doesn't have to go to them."

"Draco?" Harry asked. "What do you think about this idea? Will you go to the Burrow and act as hostage?" Harry was rather cross that Lucius hadn't thought to ask Draco's opinion on the matter himself.

Draco frowned. "I suppose this is absolutely necessary?" he grumbled.

Nobody said anything; they just regarded him hopefully. Draco tutted. "Oh, okay, I suppose I'll have to. But I won't enjoy it, cooped up in a hovel with a bunch of Weasleys."

"The Burrow is not a hovel!" Harry said hotly. "And the Weasleys are good people." He glared at Draco, as if daring him to say anything else. 

Draco returned the glare for a second, then said, "Fine, as long as it means that V…Vol…Voldemort," he finally spat out, "gets his."

"Right, I'll finish this letter then, shall I?" Harry asked, looking from one to the other. His eyes came to rest on Lucius, noting the look of concern on his lover's face. Now it was his turn to reach across the table and give Lucius' hand a comforting squeeze. After giving Lucius a quick smile, he bent back to his job of letter writing.

"Are you fucking my Father?"

The question came completely out of the blue, and so intent was he upon his task, that Harry found that he had said, "Actually he's fucking me," before he realised with horror what he had done. A moment later, Draco's fist collided with Harry's jaw, then the blonde boy jumped to his feet, yelled "you bastard" at Harry, and ran from the room. 

There was a moment’s silence before Lucius said heavily, "I think you could have handled that a _little_ more tactfully, Harry." He got to his feet.

"I'm sorry," Harry wailed, clutching his jaw. "He took me by surprise. I didn't think…."

"No, obviously not," Lucius said shortly, before leaving in search of his son.

********

"I'm beginning to hate this bloody stream."

"I have to admit that its charm has lessened considerably for me also. I'll give you one thing, Harry Potter. Life is certainly not dull when you are around."

"I can't believe I said that," Harry moaned. "Of all the stupid…. Well, if Draco didn't hate me before, which he did, he will now."

"Draco never hated you."

Harry turned and looked at Raif, a look of incredulity on his face. "I thought you knew everything…how come you missed that? Draco's hated me from the first moment we met."

"Actually, I believe the first thing he did when you met, was offer you his friendship," Raif pointed out mildly.

"Yes, well …" Harry said grudgingly, "he was a total prat, went on about the 'right sort of wizarding family', about how Ron wasn't."

"It seems to me, Harry, that you have been guilty of a charge you often lay at the door of others."

"What?" Harry asked, bemused. 

"That of judging a book by its cover. You often accuse people of not looking beyond your scar. Can you honestly say that you looked beyond your first impression of Draco? Did you ever take the time to try and get to know him?" 

"I was too bloody busy trying to avoid all the crap he kept throwing at me," Harry replied bitterly, stung by Raif's words. Then he sighed. "This is going nowhere. I have to admit that I was kind of getting to like him, a bit. I hugged him last night, for goodness sake! But it's not going to matter. I get the impression he is not very happy about me sleeping with his Dad; I can't say I blame him. His Mum's just been killed by an evil monster, and when he finally gets to see his father, he finds out that he's been sleeping with a kid his own age, who also happens to be his arch enemy. I'm sure _I'd_ have been _thrilled_!" He kicked moodily at the grass by his feet.

"Lucius and Narcissa were never close, as theirs was an arranged marriage, and whilst they got along tolerably well, there was never any depth to their relationship. Draco knew that." Raif paused. "You know, Harry, if you are serious about continuing your relationship with Lucius, this is only the first of many adverse reactions you will encounter. People are not going to look kindly upon the coupling of a man like Lucius, with a boy like yourself." 

"I know," Harry said miserably. "I've been trying not to think about it. I thought I'd just wait to see if I actually survived, before I tried to figure out how I was going to tell everyone. But I'm not giving Lucius up," Harry said forcefully. "I love him, and you say he loves me. I just wish life wasn't so bloody complicated," he added, a note of despair in his voice. 

"You have plenty of courage, Harry, so use it. Things will resolve themselves, one way or another, and I have a feeling that there will be a positive outcome to all of this. And don't underestimate Draco…he may just surprise you."

He did. It wasn't Lucius who came down the garden to find them; it was his son. Raif disappeared with a flick of his fingers, leaving Harry to stare mutely at the spot where the older man had been standing.

"It _can_ be rather irritating when he does that," Draco remarked, also staring at the empty space.

Harry switched his gaze to the boy beside him. "I'm really sorry, Draco. I didn't…I shouldn't have…." 

Draco held up his hand to halt Harry's mumblings. "No," he said, "you shouldn't have; but what's done is done. One of the many things you don't know about me," he went on, "is how much I love my Father. You might find it hard to believe, but he has always been there for me, always supported me, and whilst he may not be the sort of parent who is overly demonstrative of his love, I know that he _does_ love me, very much." He paused. "I hate to admit it, Potter, but you have made my Father very happy. He tells me he loves you." Draco stopped again, biting his lips, a frown creasing his forehead. "But I'm warning you now, that if you ever do anything to hurt him, I'll kill you. And that is no idle threat," he said, turning a steely glare on Harry. "And don't ever expect me to like it, because I won't. I'm doing this for him, not for you." 

"Thank you, Draco," Harry said, astonished at Draco's maturity.

"Yes, well, you can thank me by killing V…Voldemort, and avenging my mother. And your parents," he added. "Come on, I think we'd better get back inside and finish our plans."


	14. Hate

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

**Chapter Fourteen—Hate**

Draco and Harry walked back into the dining room. Lucius looked at them apprehensively, but before he could say anything, Draco spoke. "I would be grateful if you two kept your relationship private; just because I know about it, don't think it gives you the right to go around touching each other…or anything." He sat down firmly in his chair and glared at Harry and Lucius who had moved to stand by one another. They slunk apart, Harry going to sit by Raif at the other end of the table.

In the end their plan was simple. Raif would take Draco to the Burrow and meet with the Order members. He would inform them that Lucius was going to take Harry, disguised as Draco, to Voldemort at nine-thirty. At nine forty-five, allowing Lucius and Harry a few minutes for any unforeseen delays, the Order should Apparate to Voldemort's headquarters and assist with the rounding up of the Death Eaters.

"Aren't there wards to prevent Apparation into Voldemort's headquarters?" Harry asked.

"Normally, yes," Lucius replied. "But when there is a meeting scheduled, the wards are disabled to permit everyone to arrive. As tomorrow's meeting is not due to start until ten o'clock, the wards will be open. They usually remain open until the last member has left. Voldemort is arrogant in his assumption that no one would dare attack when so many Death Eaters are present at one time."

"Sooo," Harry said slowly, "another good reason for nine forty-five to be the time; hopefully not all the Death Eaters will have arrived by then."

“Most will have done; it is best not to incur Voldemort’s wrath by being late.”

“And then I'll kill Voldemort.” Harry said this as if he realised that the time had finally come. Never had he willingly walked into a confrontation with Voldemort. Always, the encounters had been unplanned or accidental, at least on his part.

“And I will have my revenge on Severus,” Lucius added, a bitter note in his voice.

A puzzled expression crossed over Draco’s face. “Why? What has Uncle Severus done?”

Lucius looked unhappy. “Um, I’m sorry Draco, but we think it was Severus who betrayed your mother.”

Draco stared at him for a moment. “No. It wasn’t. But I think I know who it _was_.”

They all looked at him expectantly.

“It was Aunt Bel.”

“What makes you think that?” Lucius asked gently.

Draco furrowed his brow. “I overheard Uncle Severus, one night after a meeting. He thought I was asleep. It made no sense at the time. At least,” he went on more slowly, “it made sense, but I didn’t relate it to…to what happened to…Mother.” He stopped.

Lucius waited for a moment, then prompted Draco to continue. “What did he say, Draco? Can you remember?”

“Of course I can remember; I’m not six, you know,” Draco snapped at his father. Then he took a breath. “Severus was very angry. He kept muttering, something that sounded like “I can’t believe it”, that she had been “betrayed by her own flesh and blood”. I didn’t know whom he was talking about, but I knew it had to be important because Uncle Severus was so furious.” He stopped again, his eyes on his father. “If it _was_ Mother he was talking about, it makes sense that it was Aunt Bel who betrayed her.”

Lucius looked shocked. “But they were always so close.” He shook his head. “I knew that her time in Azkaban had…changed Bella, but to betray her own sister…” he trailed off, a look of horror on his face.

Raif leaned over and gripped Lucius' shoulder. “My friend, we always knew that Bellatrix was unstable; you have said yourself, in the past, that she had a streak of madness in her. Voldemort means more to her than anything. She kept her faith in him, even when those about her believed him dead and were denying their allegiance.”

Lucius looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. “You're right. So, it appears that she put her service to Voldemort before her sister’s life.” Anger blazed in his eyes. “In that case, it is at Bellatrix that my wand will be pointed.”

********

Their plan formulated, they were then left with nothing to do but wait. It was the hardest time of Harry’s life. He was split, half of him wanted the time to fly by. The inaction was draining, and his mind had too much time to imagine all the things that could go wrong. He simply wanted a resolution. All the years of his life had been leading up to this, this moment of truth, this moment when things would be decided one way or another, once and for all.

On the other hand, he didn’t know if he was ready to face Voldemort, if he would _ever_ be ready. To kill. Or be killed. And there was another reason he wanted time to slow to a stop. Lucius. They had had such a short time together, and he needed more: needed to experience all the things that Lucius could show him; needed to be held safe in Lucius’ arms; needed to feel Lucius’ love surround him. 

His insides felt cold and empty. His hands trembled, and he felt sick. And there was still a day to go.

Lucius took matters in hand. “Raif, will you take Draco to the Burrow now?”

Both Raif and Draco looked perplexed. “But I thought…” Raif began.

“I think it best to establish now whether or not the Order is prepared to help us. If not, then we will have to formulate another plan, and if that becomes necessary, then the more time we have to do it, the better.”

Raif nodded. “I see your point. Draco, are you willing to go along with that?” 

Draco looked mutinous for a few moments, then an expression of resignation settled on his face, and he shrugged. “I suppose so. Anything has to better than sitting around here twiddling my thumbs and looking at Potter’s ugly mug.” He grinned. “I can spend the time far more profitably Weasel-baiting.” 

“You will behave with courtesy, as befits a Malfoy,” Lucius said coldly. “You are not to alienate these people; we need them, Draco, so please remember that.”

********

Father and son embraced. “I love you, Draco,” Lucius said softly. “Take care. The gods willing, I will see you late tomorrow night. All right?”

Draco nodded, then clung to his father. Harry looked away as tears began to glitter on Draco’s cheeks. Then the blonde boy wiped them away with his sleeve and assumed an expression of casual indifference. In preparation, no doubt, Harry thought, for his arrival at the Burrow.

Raif hugged Lucius hard, then came over to Harry. “I will see you both tomorrow. I will be here at eight o’clock, unless there is a problem with the Order helping us, in which case I will be back sooner.” He hugged Harry, then with Draco in his arms, he disappeared. 

Lucius and Harry stared at the empty space for a moment. Then they were in each other’s arms.

“Oh, Harry,” Lucius groaned. “I know it was wrong of me, but I had to get us some time alone.”

Harry said nothing, but simply clung to Lucius as the older man picked him up and Apparated them both upstairs.

********

They made love, and then slept. The hours seemed to fly by, now that they had each other to pass the time with. Whenever one of them awoke, he would wake the other, and they would make love again, sharing the comfort of their bodies, wanting to take advantage of the time they had left.

Raif did not reappear, so they assumed that he had been successful in his negotiations.

********

Finally, the fateful day dawned. Harry was curled up in Lucius’ arms, and he watched as the bedroom around them slowly emerged from the darkness into shades of grey. Then, he could make out colours, and finally there was no denying that the day had arrived.

Tildy had made breakfast by the time they entered the kitchen. But Harry had no appetite. He toyed with his food, tried a mouthful or two in response to the appeal in the house elf’s eyes. But the food was like cardboard and sawdust in his mouth, and he soon gave up, pushing his plate away.

"I can't stand this," he moaned, dropping his head into his hands. Lucius reached across the table and gripped his arm in sympathy. "If only we could go now and get it over with. This waiting is driving me mad."

"We could always go back to bed," Lucius suggested half-heartedly. But somehow the time for that had passed. Harry wanted the comfort of Lucius’ arms, but not the intensity of lovemaking. They went to sit in the lounge; Harry curled once more into the older wizard's embrace, and then after a while he spoke.

"To think that for years I thought I hated you. And now, after less than two weeks, I know I love you."

Lucius stroked Harry's hair. "And I you, Harry. More completely and more deeply than I ever thought it was possible." He paused before continuing. "I have never found it easy to love, to give myself to another person, but you have possessed me, taken my heart and made it yours. I will fight for you, Harry, against those who will dispute _my_ right to _your_ heart, against those who will wish to part us. Because I know I will be lost without you; know I will never love anyone as I love you."

There were tears on Harry's cheeks as he turned in Lucius’ arms and looked up at his lover. "You've finally told me," he said in a voice filled with wonder. "Raif told me you loved me—even Draco told me, but _you_ never said…until now. I won't let them part us, Lucius; you make me complete; you make me feel safe. I need you, more than I've ever needed anyone. Raif said people wouldn't like us being together; I don't care what people think," he went on wildly. "I'm yours, and I won't let anyone split us up…as long as you want me," Harry added more quietly.

"Forever then," Lucius said simply, holding Harry close against him.

********

Harry could hear Lucius' heart beat beneath his ear, a rhythmic thud, thud. The sound seemed to get into his body, weaving around his own heart and dictating its rhythm so that the two hearts seemed to beat as one. It was a hypnotic sound, and Harry found himself drifting into a light doze, with the rain, which had begun to fall outside, creating a white noise in the background as it hissed against the windowpanes.

Harry didn't know how long they sat, entwined in each other's arms. Lunchtime came and went with neither of them making a move. Tildy appeared briefly and made desperate squeaks at them to eat, but they ignored her; each moment away from the arms of the other, was a moment lost.

Eventually, though, they had to move. Nature called to them both. When Harry went up to use the bathroom, he turned on the bath taps. Lucius heard the running water and came up to join him. He slowly stripped Harry of his clothes, then lifted the young wizard into the soothing, scented water. Harry sighed as his body was slowly immersed, then closed his eyes as Lucius began to carefully wash each and every inch of his body.

He would never have imagined how gentle Lucius could be. This infamous Death Eater, who had once struck fear into Harry's heart, now treated him as if he was a priceless piece of porcelain. He opened his eyes. "Get in with me?"

Lucius' grey eyes regarded him steadily for a moment, then he began to remove his clothes. Harry marvelled afresh at the splendour of Lucius' body as the man stepped into the bath, arranging Harry's legs so that they rested over his hips, then pulled Harry against him and kissed him deeply. 

The combination of Lucius' body and the warm water seemed to soothe the aching, empty place that had hidden itself deep in Harry's body, and he relaxed into Lucius, feeling his penis stir into life. Lucius’ own cock had arisen at the close proximity of Harry's naked body; he pulled Harry so close that their erections were pressed together, and slowly rocked them to a climax, bringing Harry's mouth to his own as the boy cried out his release.

********

Raif arrived promptly at eight o'clock to find the pair quiet and collected. Now that the time was nearly upon them, Harry had gone into a state of calm. Lucius, knowing he had to be strong for Harry, had assumed his _I am a Malfoy_ persona.

"Everything went well, then?" Lucius asked.

Raif seated himself in one of the armchairs by the fire. He smiled. "If you discount the bout of fisticuffs that occurred between young Ronald Weasley and Draco this morning, then yes. The Order members were, naturally, somewhat…ah, overwhelmed by all that has happened. Arthur Weasley was particularly vociferous on the subject of Harry releasing you from prison; Molly Weasley seemed most concerned to know if you had been feeding Harry properly." They laughed, then Raif went on. "I believe Remus Lupin blames himself for not making Harry tell him what was going on, and allowing Harry to hex him."

Lucius turned to Harry. "What's this? When did you see Lupin?"

"When I got the locket from Grimmauld Place, he was there. I had to hex him to stop him from taking me back to the Burrow."

Lucius looked at him with admiration, then turned back to Raif. "Go on, I assume they went for the idea?" 

"Eventually. They were very unhappy about it, as you can imagine. We spent half the night debating the pros and cons. In the end, they had no choice but to come to the conclusion that this has to be done, sooner or later, and none of them could come up with a better plan. I have to tell you, though," Raif warned, "you are both going to have to face some severe recriminations once this is over."

"That's if we survive," Harry said blankly.

"What was Draco fighting about?" Lucius asked, in an attempt to distract Harry.

Raif smiled. "Oh! Why Draco had to not only share a room with Ron, but also sleep in Harry's bed to boot, among other things. But in the end it all calmed down, especially when they realised they both supported the Cannons, and that they both enjoyed wizard chess. I think, by the time I left, they had decided that the other wasn't quite as bad as they’d thought." 

Harry looked frankly astonished at this piece of news. "Never," he said, "did I think I would ever hear anyone say Ron and Draco were getting on. Mind you, weasels and ferrets." He laughed, and then had to explain his reference to Lucius and Raif.

Before they knew it, it was time for them to go. Raif discreetly made himself scarce for a few moments.

"Harry?" Lucius reached into his pocket. "I want you to have this." He brought out a heavy silver ring and slotted it onto Harry’s finger. "It is my promise to you that I will always be there for you, for as long as I am able, and as long as you wish me to be."

Harry looked down at the ring on his finger. It was obviously antique, beautifully wrought to resemble a circle of leaves. He looked back up at Lucius, his eyes shinning with unshed tears. "Thank you," he whispered. Then a sudden thought crossed his mind and he reached into his jeans pocket. Bringing out Salazar Slytherin's locket, he reached up and hung it about Lucius’ neck.

"Will you wear this for me?" he asked. "As my promise to _you_?"

Lucius smiled. "I will be honoured to." He tucked it away out of sight beneath his clothes, then turned and called to Raif. "It is time, Raif. Will you perform the magic?"

********

They Apparated into Voldemort's headquarters, arriving in a stone-walled antechamber. A murmur of voices off to their left gave away the location of Voldemort's throne room. Lucius gave a swift look of encouragement to Harry, then drew himself up to his full, imposing height, and swept into the presence of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was seated in a great wooden chair that was covered with gilded decoration. It was situated on a raised dais at the end of a long hall. Along the sides of the hall were groups of Death Eaters who had already arrived. Lucius strode up the hall, then dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of the Dark Lord's cloak. Harry followed suit, keeping his eyes fixed to the ground as he had been instructed. But as he raised his lips from the obligatory kiss, he stole a glance upwards and found himself eye to eye with the man with whom Voldemort had been conversing. It was Snape. His eyes glittered darkly as they met Harry's, and for just a split second, Harry thought he saw a jolt of recognition cross the man's face, as if he had seen through the disguise to the boy who lurked beneath. The expression vanished almost before it had fully formed, and the usual blank mask dropped back into place. Harry felt cold dread fill the pit of his stomach as he waited for damnation. It didn't come. Snape turned and inclined his head to listen more attentively to his Lord, leaving Harry to wonder if he had mistaken the look on his professor's face. 

He and Lucius backed away at a wave from Voldemort's hand, and went to take their places against a wall to one side. They had arrived spot on the appointed time for Draco's return. Now they had to wait the crucial fifteen minutes until just before the Order was due to arrive; then Harry was to strike. Hopefully he would cause so much disruption that the Order would have an easy job of dispatching the remaining Death Eaters. The seconds crept slowly by. Harry glanced surreptitiously around the room. Knots of Death Eaters stood talking in low voices. Fenrir Greyback stalked into the room, looking every bit as feral as Harry remembered him. Here and there were other faces that Harry recollected from his previous encounters with the Death Eaters. Now and then, someone would stop and greet Lucius, but they would soon pass on to take their appointed place. 

Harry felt like a lamb in a wolf's lair. His breath grew short, and he felt sure that he was going to be sick. It was only Lucius' presence at his side that kept him from panicking. As if aware of Harry’s distress, Lucius shifted subtly so that he was now pressed against Harry's side. At the comforting touch, Harry managed to calm himself, taking a deep breath and swallowing some of his fear. 

A slither of movement behind Voldemort's chair caught his attention. It was Nagini, coiling around the base of the throne. Harry inclined his head up to Lucius and breathed at him, "Take the snake." Lucius gave a brief nod of understanding, then looked off in the other direction, feigning boredom. Harry slid his hand, slick with sweat, into his robe pocket, and fingered his wand. Now, the time was NOW! 

He pulled the wand free and thrust it up in Voldemort's direction. At the same time, he felt Lucius bring up his own wand, and a bolt of green light flew past him as Lucius delivered a Killing Curse to the great snake. A woman's voice screamed, and as Harry shouted, _”Avadra Kedavra”_ , the Dark Lord flung himself to one side and narrowly avoided the green bolt that Harry shot at him. Harry felt the glamour placed on him by Raif fade away, revealing him for who he truly was.

Then, all hell broke loose. The Order had arrived as promised, and soon the air was thick with spells. Everywhere there were struggling figures, and bolts of coloured light flew round the room. Harry dodged around a duelling couple to get another clear shot at Voldemort, vaguely aware that Lucius was close beside him.

"Potter! Look out!" 

Harry spun round at the sound of his Potions master's voice, just in time to see Lucius dive in front of him and intercept the Killing Curse that had been aimed at Harry's heart. As if in slow motion, he watched Lucius fall dead at his feet, and, in the midst of the battle, he lowered his wand and stared aghast at the body that lay so still on the ground. To Harry, the noise of screams and shouted spells seemed to come from far away. Then the sound of mocking laughter pierced the fog in his mind. 

Dumbledore had been right. Love was the key, but it was _hate_ born of that love that turned the key, and released the power that was within Harry Potter. 

He raised his eyes from the lifeless body of his lover and searched out those of his nemesis. Voldemort's eyes went wide with fear, the taunts dying on his lips as the boy who had haunted his thoughts for seventeen years was revealed in his full glory, and the Dark Lord realised he was facing his doom. Harry brought up his wand, merciless and deadly, and with no spell formed in his mind, pointed the holly shaft at the Man Who Had To Be Killed, and released the full fury that filled his body, his mind, and his heart.

A ribbon of black flame shot from the end of his wand, shattered the green pulse that had barely made it from the end of Voldemort's wand, and entered the body of the Dark Lord. For a moment nothing happened, then Tom Riddle, who had styled himself as Lord Voldemort, exploded with a huge noise into a million flickers of darkness that drifted lazily to the floor like specks of soot.

********

Harry was unaware of the events that followed. He didn't see Severus Snape kill Bellatrix Lestrange, or Remus Lupin bring down Fenrir Greyback. Or the Aurors, who had joined with the Order, round up the remaining Death Eaters who now offered no resistance.

He had sunk to his knees by Lucius' side, tears streaming down his face, hazing his eyes as he collapsed onto his lover's body. He became vaguely aware that a slim blonde figure had come to his side, tears streaking a pale face, and wondered in a detached way, about how Draco had persuaded the Order to bring him. Then the two boys were clinging together, united in their grief, oblivious to their surroundings.

********

**Epilogue**

Harry methodically collected the fallen leaves into neat piles on the lawn, the sound of the rake tines as they scraped over the frost crisp grass, loud in the still, evening air. The sun had nearly set, and darkness was gathering in the shadowed places. Harry straightened slowly, easing the stiffness in his back. A movement caught his eye and he glanced up towards the cottage. A blonde figure emerged from the French doors and a grin spread over Harry's face. He flung down the rake and flew up the garden, hurling himself at the man who now waited for him on the patio. They embraced, holding each other tightly until the blonde pushed Harry away and smiled at him.

"You're cold!"

"Sorry!" Harry laughed. "It's just so good to see you, Draco."

"It's good to see you too! Now, come inside before I freeze to death."

With his arm slung around Draco's shoulders, Harry turned to go back into the cottage, only to find his way blocked.

"Will you put my son down and come and hug me instead?" 

Harry moved quickly to Lucius' side, ducking to kiss, as he always did, the twisted lump of gold that hung around his lover's neck; all that remained of the Slytherin locket that had deflected the worst of the killing curse, leaving the older wizard close to death but still clinging to life. 

"Lucius, when did you get back? I thought you were going to be out until late?" 

He tilted up his face as Lucius pulled him into his arms, and then kissed him deeply. A loud coughing behind them reminded them of Draco's presence, and they broke apart, laughing. Lucius flung one arm round his son, the other around the man he loved with all his heart, and the three made their way back inside. 

Stars began to prick silver holes in the dark blue cloth of night, and across the stream, where mist now hung like an ethereal blanket over the frosted field, a white owl swung through the clear air, heading for home.

 

~~FIN~~

 

**A/N**

Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. My sincere thanks must go to my beta, RaeWhit. She has corrected, encouraged, enraged, provoked, reasoned and calmed…to name but a few! I would have paid tribute at the end of each chapter, but being of a shy and retiring nature, she wouldn't let me! Thank you, RaeWhit, for everything; I couldn’t have done it without you.


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